I'm sure you all know the spiel by now, I don't own Phantom, fic takes place in present day, blah blah blah, REVIEW…

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Ember silently thanked any and all gods that may have existed that Rosalyn was alive. If not for Rosalyn, Ember would have just stood there, staring at the spot where Erik and Lenore disappeared while her mother went off to call the cops. But Rosalyn had swooped in and managed to half push, half pull Mrs. Parker back to the managers' office.

"Please sit down, Mrs. Parker, so that we can talk this through calmly," Rosalyn said soothingly. For her part, Rosalyn was already seated at her desk, the end of the phone cord in her hand so that anyone who wanted to place a call from the office would have to go through her first. Ember had decided to stand in front of the door to make sure her mother couldn't go running out and find another phone.

"Calmly? My daughter just fell through a dark hole with a madman!" Mrs. Parker shouted.

"Actually, he seemed quite sane to me," Ember commented softly, hoping her mother wouldn't hear it. After all, if there was any way to get away from her mother, Ember was all for it.

"Sane? What kind of man wears a mask and a cloak, and disappears through trap doors with girls?" Mrs. Parker contradicted. "He's some sort of psychopathic rapist or something. Why else do you think he wouldn't give his last name? He's probably got a record with the police."

"I'm sure that Erik has quite an impressive criminal history," Rosalyn interjected. "But let's not bother ourselves with that just now. I think the best course of action is to pretend the whole thing never happened."

"Insanity must be a contagious disease!" Mrs. Parker declared. "Lenore's been kidnapped! Don't you realize that? She's. Been. Kidnapped! We have to call the police, they're equipped to handle these kinds of situations."

"We're not calling the police," Rosalyn said firmly.

"Of course we are, we have to report"-

"We're not calling the police, because there's no 'situation' to report."

"You're out of your mind!"

"I'm out of my mind? Who's the one screaming and ranting like a maniac instead of calmly considering all the facts?" Rosalyn countered.

"Ember, move aside, I'm going to find a phone," Mrs. Parker snapped. "If neither of you want to use common sense and realize we have a problem here, I'll call the police myself."

"Sit down and shut your mouth!" Rosalyn screamed with all the anger she possessed. "You need to use your own common sense!"

"Don't raise your voice at me!"

"I'm not your child, you can't tell me not to yell at you! But please, just hear me out. You can't call the police and tell them Lenore's been kidnapped. Because that's a lie. Did she ever express a single fear or concern about being with Erik? Just think for a moment. Did she even try to get away from him tonight? No. She wants to be with him, he's not holding her against her will. If you know anything at all about your daughter, then you know she'd never do anything she didn't want to," Rosalyn said.

"You're wrong. That man is a villain, he's probably threatened to kill her if she tried to escape or something," Mrs. Parker argued.

"Mom, stop it. You can't call truth a lie," Ember spoke up. "Mom…I…I think you should know…he's not really an insurance man." Do I dare tell her? How do you tell your mother that your sister is in love with the Phantom of the Opera? "He's…well, he's…he's the…the…phantomoftheopera." Ember squished his title into one word, saying it as quickly as possible.

"The what?" Mrs. Parker asked, not sure she'd heard Ember properly.

"It's true," Rosalyn sighed. "He's the Phantom of the Opera."

There was a few minutes silence, in which Mrs. Parker looked back and forth between the two girls. "If I had known either of you were insane, I would never have agreed to letting Lenore come to look at this building."

"We're not crazy!" Ember protested.

"Of course you're not, dear," Mrs. Parker said, her tone implying that she was trying to pacify an angered mentally disabled person. "Now, why don't we go for a little walk to the kitchen?"

"You're not leaving this office until we're clear that this conversation doesn't leave this room, and you swear on a Bible that you won't call the police," Rosalyn informed Mrs. Parker sweetly.

"Now Rosalyn, let's be reasonable here," Mrs. Parker said through gritted teeth, not at all happy with being told to swear on a Bible. A Bible! Good Christians didn't swear, didn't Rosalyn know that? "The Phantom of the Opera is dead. Dead. He can't possibly still be alive. What we have here is obviously a very convincing copycat. And it would be wise to turn this matter over to the police before anyone gets hurt."

"We are not dealing with a copycat, I can assure you of that," Ember said. "I've been under the Opera House with him. There are tunnels down there that aren't on the blueprints, and he has an extensive knowledge of them. I've only been to the lair twice, but he's taken me a different way each time, I know that much. You'd have to live down there for…years and years to even begin to know your way. And it's pitch black down there, he doesn't use a light at all. How do you explain that?"

"I think it would be best for everyone concerned, Mrs. Parker, if you just get on your plane tomorrow morning and act as if nothing's happened," Rosalyn insisted.

"I'm not just going to abandon Lenore to some psycho who decided to play around below the Opera House and pretend to be the Phantom of the Opera," Mrs. Parker stated. "And if – if! – he really is who he claims to be, that's all the more reason not to leave."

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Lenore yawned and sat up, wondering what time it was and how long she'd been asleep. Erik had left her last night, telling her to think on his proposition, which she was quite puzzled about. It had sounded like he proposed marriage, but that was ridiculous. Is it? Is it really such a foreign thought to you? To be quite frank, she had been certain that Erik was only amusing himself with her, that he didn't have any real affection for her.

She was suddenly aware that she was being watched. Looking around, she found Erik leaning against a wall, his eyes trained on her. She stared back for a few moments before finally looking away. He didn't even blink!

"What time is it?" she inquired, managing to get the question out after a few stammered attempts. He was watching her obsessively, and it was somewhat frightening.

"Morning," Erik said evasively.

"I'd like to know the exact time, please," Lenore replied. He would have to take his eyes off of her to look at his pocket watch, and she would welcome that gladly.

"What makes you so valuable, Lenore?" he asked, his eyes glued on her.

"What do you mean?"

"Your mother had a talk with the American ambassador here in France, and they're sending in Navy SEALs to rescue you," Erik explained. "They wouldn't go to all that trouble for a simple citizen. So what makes you so valuable?"

Lenore sighed. Why did the government have to get involved in this? Why couldn't Mom just go back home and pretend nothing happened? Why didn't Rosalyn and Ember convince her to keep her mouth shut about all this? The Navy SEALs were not to be taken lightly, and she knew he deserved an explanation as to why he was at such risk for her sake.

"Well…" she said, taking a deep breath. You won't cry…you won't. "In my senior year of high school, I was driving home one night from the musical. I was one of the chorus members, but that's not really the point. A car crossed the yellow line, and…I slowed down, because I just knew he'd swerve back into his lane if I gave him enough time." Lenore felt tears welling up in her eyes already. "I…he…it just…it happened so fast, I"- She burst into tears at that point, but continued on, spitting out a few words between sobs. "The car just…crumpled like foil…and caught fire…I…I couldn't…couldn't get out." She stopped there, trying to collect herself. After a few minutes, she had the tears and sobs under control again. "We took him to civil court, for pain and suffering. Turns out the man was a multi-billionaire executive. I got almost every penny he had, all his houses and cars. I sold the cars, but I've got estates in Louisanna, Maine, Arizona, California, Hawaii, Japan, Germany, England, Russia, India, Australia, a penthouse in New York City…I'm the seventh wealthiest woman in America."

"How did you get all that money from him?" Erik said after a moment.

"By having some of the worst injuries the doctors had ever seen and a really good lawyer representing me," Lenore replied. It was a rather large sum for what seemed like trivial injuries, but Erik didn't know that she'd had internal bleeding in her liver and would have died if the helicopter had taken one minute longer in getting her to the hospital that night. "That bastard was drunk. He passed out at the wheel. They found out later that he'd shot himself full of meth too. Who gets in a fucking car in that state?" She paused to take a deep breath, ridding herself of the anger that had her by the throat. "Needless to say, he's ruined now."

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Erik's eyes never left her face, but he was seeing her legs in his mind. He had known it had to have been a very serious accident to have left her so mutilated. He didn't bother remonstrating her for her language; in her position, he probably would've said something much the same or perhaps worse. The room was silent for countless minutes before Erik broke it.

"Well, we'll have to move now," he sighed.

"Move? What do you mean?" Lenore asked, bewildered.

"We can't very well stay in this cave, it's far too easy to find," Erik explained. "I suppose we'll have to go to the house."

"House? You have a house?"

"Of course I have a house, just like anybody else," Erik hissed. Why was it such an outlandish concept that he had a house?

"I'm sorry," she apologized. "You've just never mentioned it before; I assumed this was the only place you lived."

Erik decided to let the subject drop; she had a good point. He strode over and scooped her up into his arms. She was still wearing the white dress from last night, which he found odd. Why didn't you take it off before falling asleep? Didn't it occur to you that it might have put the thought of marriage into my mind? He took her out into the lair and gently set her in the gondola, being careful of her ankle.

"How did you find out that they're sending in the SEALs?" Lenore asked as he slowly directed the boat towards his old dwelling.

"Darius has his uses, you know," Erik told her, a grin conquering his face. Darius should be at the house by now with a new bed; his mother's bed that had been privileged enough to cradle Christine during her stay in his abode had rotted quite some time ago. Of course, all the other furniture had fallen apart as well, and would have to be replaced, but Erik was most concerned with providing a comfortable bed for Lenore to rest in while Darius helped Erik move things from the lair into the house.

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Lenore gave a start when the gondola stopped. She had expected lights, or perhaps a dock, anything to signify that there was a dwelling. Then again, the house would too easy to find if there were windows that poured out light. Erik took her up into his arms again, those strong arms that produced two very opposite reactions within her. The first reaction was a feeling of safety and security, yet the second was one of pure terror. His strength was frightening, especially considering her own immense lack of physical strength. His words came echoing around in her mind again. "You know how easy it will be to take you, don't you?" She had hoped he'd never think of that…

Erik seemed to take only a few steps when she was blinded by light. Granted, it wasn't a vast amount of light, nor was it very bright, but it had been so dark just a moment ago. When Lenore opened her eyes, she realized they were inside his house. There was a fire place against one wall, and a few tables had been scattered around the room to hold candles. Darius entered the room through a hidden door on the side.

She didn't understand the conversation that followed between the two men, because they spoke in French. Erik, are you intending to hold me the whole time, or are you going to find somewhere to set me down? I honestly don't know how much more of these feelings of peace and fear I can take.

When they finished with their conversation, Erik took her into the room Darius had come out of. She was quite unprepared for the sight of it, and couldn't hold in a gasp. The black walls made the room small, and intimidating at the same time. Blood-red gossamer curtains hung from a canopy in the middle of the room, under which was a king-size wooden sleigh bed. The wood was a dark one, cherry if Lenore wasn't mistaken, and had been elaborately carved with vines and flowers. The white ivory keyboard that lined an entire wall was also a spectacular sight. There was one table in this room, and it was situated right beside the door. The result of having only one table in the room was that it was loaded with as many candles as it could safely hold, which caused strange shadows to leap through the room with each flicker of a flame.

Erik laid Lenore down on the bed, and she couldn't keep from commenting on it. "It's so soft, almost like floating on a cloud," she said with a smile. Darius must have been making the bed just before they had arrived, for the bed looked brand new. The linens and blankets themselves, however, were not. The material was obviously very old, and she was afraid that if she shifted even an inch, she'd rip a hole in the blankets. "Are you sure it's alright to touch the blankets? They're old and fragile, I don't want to rip them or anything."

"Well, that's quite an insult. They're not that much younger than I am, ma chérie," Erik informed her. "I'll have new bedding tomorrow morning. The furniture I used to have here rotted some time ago, you see. After Christine left I just…didn't care to come back."

A stab of guilt made Lenore look at the floor. It was her mother's fault that Erik had to come back here and recall rather unhappy moments of his life. There was another feeling though, something else that burned inside of her. I'm…I'm jealous. I'm jealous of a woman who died about a hundred years ago. What's wrong with me? It's not like I have to worry that he'll leave me for her; she's a corpse, for heaven's sake, he'd have to be really sick to want her over me.

"I like the bed frame," she said to change the subject. "It's cherry, right?"

"Quite observant of you," Erik remarked.

"I always liked dark woods," Lenore replied. "It must have cost a lot of money, what with all the carvings."

"Only two thousand, two hundred American dollars," Erik said dismissively.

"Where did you get so much money?" Lenore muttered.

"Surely you remember that my salary came due yesterday."

"Well, yeah, but you didn't exactly have a chance to pick it up with my mom trying to punch you and all."

"I retrieved my salary early yesterday morning," Erik responded. "Mademoiselle Kendall had no objections to meeting me at six o'clock to hand it to me personally. I must say, I do rather enjoy the relationship I have with the management this time around. It was such a bother to have my other managers leave it for me in my Box, you know."

"Wait. If you got your salary, then what am I still doing down here? Why didn't you just leave me up there last night instead? Now you've got to deal with Navy SEALs! We could probably stop the whole thing if you return me now," Lenore mused.

"What are you on about? Erik inquired curiously.

"You said that once we paid your salary, I was free to go," she reminded him.

"I'm afraid you're mistaken, ma petite," he sighed. "What I said was that if you produced my salary, you may go. I was using the word 'may' with the meaning that it was a possibility, not that you were allowed to."

"That's not fair!"

"Do not blame me for your misinterpretation."

"Then when am I allowed to leave?" she snapped. It wasn't that she wanted to leave, she just wanted to be free to come and go as she pleased.

"How does never sound to you?" Erik retorted. He didn't give her a chance to respond. "Yes, I think never will do quite nicely."

"You can't make that decision! I have at least some say in the matter!" she quarreled.

"Oh? How is that?"

"It's my life we're talking about! You make all this fuss about me being a woman, but you don't want to let me make my own decisions."

"I make decisions for you because you are mine. You belong to me!" Erik hissed.

"You don't own me! You can't own other people!" Lenore argued.

"Humans cannot own other humans, that's quite true," Erik consented. "But mortal men were made to be toys for the immortal."

"I'm a person, not a possession," she whispered angrily.

"Oh, I assure you, you're a toy, mademoiselle. God and Satan quite enjoy you because humans are exceptional toys, because you can think for yourselves. I've watched Satan at work and it's rather entertaining to see you mortals struggle to figure out who your master is and which games you will play," Erik said with a sadistic smile.

"I don't believe you. You're not immortal"-

"Then how am I alive at this age? I'm over a hundred and fifty, and if I'm not immortal, then I'm certainly in surprisingly good condition for my age!"

Every word he said seemed to make her intelligence fade away. A hundred and fifty? That's a huge age gap, not very good for our relationship… She should have been thinking about the fact that he was immortal and viewed her as a plaything for idle hours, but her mind refused to acknowledge that because it hurt too much. Maybe he's lying about the immortal thing…

"You're old-fashioned, that's all," Lenore accused. "Back in your day, a woman was considered a possession for men. A wife wasn't someone you loved, she was a trophy that you'd display at parties. But I'm not old-fashioned, and I don't agree with that. A wife is an equal partner in the relationship, a person who has feelings that need to be considered. I'm a person, and you can't own me."

A sharp pain in her mind made her cry out, and she could feel things shifting, changing. Every thought in her mind was suddenly about Erik. How to better serve him, how to please him. As suddenly as they came, those thoughts were gone. "It would be all too easy to own you if I truly wished it, child," Erik informed her coldy. "But I don't want a mindless slave, I want a willing wife. I'll wait as long as it takes for you to willingly give yourself to me; I've got all the time in the world." Erik turned on his heel and practically stormed out of the room. Pausing in the doorway, he looked back over his shoulder at her. "Whether you become mistress of this house or remain my doll is entirely up to you. Either way, welcome home, Lenore."

The door slammed shut behind him, making her wince. "Erik? It's dark in here," she called after him. She received no reply and her voice dropped to a whisper. "It's dark in here, and I'm scared."

Remain his doll? What did he mean by that? …Oh God, why didn't I see it before? Erik dressed her in clothes of his choosing, just as a child would a doll. He was always arguing with her, playing mind games of all kinds. Like a child, he did not play with her every moment. He had his other amusements, his art and his music. God, I've been so blind.

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"Perhaps you should've locked the door," Darius commented, staring at the empty bed.

Erik didn't hear him. How dare she! That ungrateful little wretch! She's only hurting herself, that sprain hasn't had enough time to heal. If only I'd checked on her earlier… He'd been through the entire underground, looking for Lenore, but she was gone. He would've pursued her aboveground, but the SEALs had the worst timing and chose that particular moment to manage to find him. All five of them were currently in his torture chamber, and he was prolonging death in the hopes that one of them would crack and tell him where Lenore was. Erik had tried to read their minds, but they'd been trained to withhold information far too well, and he couldn't break the barriers they had erected around the facts he required. Well, he could break the barriers, but that would immediately cause death, and then the information would be gone.

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"It seems the authoress is quite upset," Darius noted.

"Yes, as she well should be. Only one out of every ten readers reviews," Erik replied.

"It is rather annoying," sighed the authoress.

"Did you tell them that you accept anonymous reviews, so they don't have to go to the trouble of logging in if they don't feel like it, or don't have to be a member to leave you a review?" Erik inquired.

"Um…" authoress mumbled, blushing. "Anyway, that might not make any difference. But perhaps if I auctioned you off…Sell you for reviews…tempting idea…"

"Try it and you'll find a noose around your neck."

"Meanie…"

"Do ignore these two, they're not very polite," Darius pleaded the audience. "Please do be kind enough to review."