Erik watched Ella as she slept, careful to maintain a safe distance. She had cried herself to sleep in his arms after telling him her story. Instead of bringing her back upstairs and risking waking her, he had placed her in the swan bed to let her rest. Heaven knows she probably needed it after the day he and Archer had put her through.
He couldn't believe her story. Ella, his poor Ella, how could she have survived through all that? She was so much stronger than she appeared, but it was easy to see why she was so frightened of people. Erik could feel a surge of protectiveness towards the ballerina, determined that no one, himself included, would ever lay a hand on her again.
She stirred in her sleep, revealing an ugly bruise on her cheek. Erik would give anything to go back in time to stop himself from hurting her. Had he known, he would have never touched her. Even as mad as he had been at the time, he wouldn't have even considered hitting her.
The sound of footsteps drew his attention from Ella to the door of his lair. He pulled the curtain around her, shielding her from view, before picking up his Punjab lasso. No one was supposed to be down here. Erik hid in a crevice, waiting to attack. "Erik?" a familiar feminine voice called.
"What are you doing down here Antoinette?" he demanded, tossing the lasso aside and stepping into view.
"Am I not allowed down here?" she asked. "I was under the impression that as the one who saved your life and reason you're here, I can come and go as I please."
"You simply surprised me, that's all," Erik replied nonchalantly, trying to recover quickly.
"Surprised the Phantom of the Opera? That's nothing something you hear every day," the ballet mistress replied with a smirk.
Erik rolled his eyes. "So what brings you to my humble abode? It's rare that you venture down here anymore."
"One of my ballerinas had disappeared."
"So of course you come down here to accuse me," he sighed. "Perhaps the girl has just run off. After all, it wouldn't be the first time one of them has run off with a lover or is attempting to hide a hangover." Erik knew exactly which girl Antoinette was referring to. In fact, she was sleeping less than ten feet away, but he'd rather Antoinette not know that.
"However," she continued. "You've only threatened one, at least of the current group, and 'coincidentally' she's the one who's missing."
"And to whom are you referring?"
Antoinette glared at him. "Does 'Either you get rid of her or I will' sound familiar?"
"Miss LeFontelle has since proven her worth," Erik answered with a dismissive wave of his hand. "If you do not remember, it was I who suggested she be placed in the chorus while her injury heals. I believe the patron has been attempting to court her, yet I don't see you at his doorstep first thing in the morning."
"Erik, she's been disappearing at odd times for nearly as long as she's been here. This has you written all over it. What have you done?"
"I've done nothing," he lied, but his gaze inadvertently flicked to the black curtain that concealed Ella. It was a split second glance, but Antoinette spotted it and followed his eyes. She immediately shoved past him and moved to pull the curtain away. "Antoinette, don't!" Erik hissed, grabbing her arm but she had already pushed the black fabric aside to reveal Ella's sleeping form. Luckily her bruise was hidden in the pillows once more.
"Done nothing Erik?" she cried angrily. "This doesn't look like nothing!"
"Shush!" he replied, pulling her away. "You'll wake her!"
"I'll wake her?" Antoinette whispered angrily. "I'll wake her?! Erik, I thought you would have learned when Christine left."
"Don't say that name!" he commanded.
She ignored him. "I thought when Christine left you would learn! Kidnapping my dancers isn't going to make anyone love you Erik! The poor girl will probably be scared out of her mind when she awakens. She needs to go back upstairs, and you need to leave the ballerinas alone."
"Ella is different," he protested. "She's different from them, different from Chri-from her. I didn't kidnap her. Antoinette, I think she could love me. And I think I love her."
"If she's falling in love, it's with the Angel of Music or with whatever tricks you used on her. It's not with Erik."
"But that's just it," he insisted. "I haven't lied to her, I haven't deceived her, I haven't misled her at all. Since the very beginning, she's known I'm the Phantom. She's known I'm Erik. She's seen what lies beneath the mask, she knows my past, and Antoinette, she's not afraid of me!"
For a moment, she looked nearly convinced, but Ella chose that exact moment to shift again. Not only was the mark on her face visible now, but Erik could also see a hand shaped bruise around her wrist from when he dragged her down here. "Not afraid of you, you say," Antoinette started slowly. "Didn't kidnap her. Falling in love with you. Erik, what have you done to her?"
"Alright, I may have lost my temper, but you don't understand…"
"Lost your temper?! Look at her Erik! Next time you'll kill her!"
"I won't," he promised. "I'm trying to control myself better Antoinette, I'm really trying."
"Listen to me Erik, Ella doesn't belong down here. She's going back up with me."
"Fine."
"I wasn't finished!" she snapped. "Ella will return with me, and you will not speak to her again. I will not stand aside and let more of your nonsense ruin the Opera Populaire again."
"How do you know I won't?" Erik challenged. "What's to stop me?"
"I'll send her away."
"You wouldn't dare…" he snarled.
"Why all the fuss?" the ballet mistress asked. "After all, you were the one who requested that I get rid of her. I'm only obeying your wishes."
"Do you wish for me to destroy the opera a second time?" Erik growled. "Because I will if that's what it takes to keep her here."
"I'm doing this for Ella's and your own good. If you sing to her, speak to her, appear to her, or touch her again, I will have her sent away."
"Surely you wouldn't turn the girl out onto the streets. She told me you were a friend of her mother's. You wouldn't send the penniless daughter of one of your friends out onto the streets of Paris."
"No," she admitted. "But I can have her sent to another theater."
Erik watched the sleeping girl for a few moments more, thinking. Although he knew it would be torture for himself, he couldn't let her go. "Very well," he replied, defeated. "But what if she willingly comes to me of no fault of my own?"
"Then I will stand aside and say no more." Erik nodded in agreement, thinking it would only be a few days at most before his angel returned to him.
Ella slowly blinked, taking in the sights around her. She wrapped in black silk sheets in a delightfully comfortable bed. Candles all around bathed the room in a warm light. Even though it was still darker than she was used to, it was inviting. This was Erik's home.
Looking around she spotted the last person she thought would be here. "Madame Giry?" Ella cried in surprise. "Why are you down here?"
"I was looking for you my dear," she replied. She glanced at Erik, surprised he had nothing to say. He simply nodded then walked away. Confused at what was wrong, she looked to the ballet mistress. "Come, you are already missed, it wouldn't be wise to remain here."'
Madame Giry placed a comforting and on her shoulder and began steering Ella upstairs. "How did you know how to get there?" Ella asked in amazement.
"I was the one who brought him there all those years ago."
"You're the one who saved him?" She seemed awestruck.
"Yes, I did. Now hurry. We need to return before too many people start asking too many questions.