Author's Note: I am basing this off of the play instead of the book. Though I have read the book and thoroughly love it, the story works better with Madame Giry instead of the Persian.

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Madame Giry walked into the dressing room, closed the door, and collapsed on the settee. Her dull, glazed eyes passed over the shabbily furnished room until they rested on the mirror on the far wall. Her eyes passed through the mirror and down the maze of tunnels she had guided the young viscount through earlier that evening and eventually came to the phantom's lair. So much had happened in the last few hours and she was utterly exhausted. She knew that she would have to report to the opera house managers in the morning and explain her involvement with the disappearance of the phantom, Raoul, and Christine, but for the moment she didn't care. So deep in thought was she that she didn't notice Meg's presence in the room until the concerned girl touched her trembling hand.

"Mother, are you ill?"

Madame Giry slowly turned her head to her daughter and smiled faintly, "I'm fine Meg. Just a little tired-that's all."

Meg's face relaxed and she patted her mother's hand, "It was an exciting evening mother. We made it all the way down to the mansion by the lake. He wasn't there though. Christine and the viscount had disappeared too. I wish I knew where they went."

Madame Giry nodded absently at her daughter before returning her gaze to the mirror. She knew what had happened down there, though she hadn't witnessed it. She had been so involved with the phantom over the years she could almost predict his moves.

"Meg, my darling, I would rather discuss this in the morning. Go back to the house and I will be along shortly."

Meg kissed her mother softly and quietly left the dressing room. Madame Giry watched her until the door closed, then looked at the mirror once again.

Had she done the right thing by leading the viscount to the phantom? Yes, she tried to fend off the viscount, but in the end she had shown him the way. She knew that she had been the phantom's puppet since the beginning, but she still felt like she had betrayed him. He had made her feel so important and wanted as the messenger between the opera managers and himself-yet frightened and endangered with his threats of violence if she betrayed him. The thrill of being in the middle of an intrigue was like a drug to her. She wouldn't have had it any other way. Now, it was all over and she was most likely out of a job. Her world of shadowy meetings and mysterious messages was gone. The untouchable status her close involvement with the phantom had granted her was dissolving and she would have to face the harsh reality that she was considered an accomplice to multiple murders. Her heart went out to Carlotta and her loss.

"I hate you for what you made me keep a secret," she savagely whispered as she turned from the mirror.

Bitter tears rolled down her cheeks as she mentally kicked herself for having been so easily captivated by the phantom's wiles and charms. She knew why she had lead the viscount to the phantom. She wasn't looking for justice, she was seeking revenge. Her jealously of the love the phantom poured on Christine had driven her to finally reveal his most important secret and lead his rival to him.

She couldn't stand the sight of the dressing room that had so often served as the meeting place for her and the phantom any longer. She abruptly stood up and with a hate-filled heart, walked to the door. As she passed the mirror, she paused and stared at it for several minutes. Her hands slowly tracing the border of the mirror. She sighed and slowly kissed her cold fingers before pressing them to the reflective glass.

"Erik, I will always love you," she murmured in a defeated tone as she closed the door to Christine's dressing room for the final time.