I own nothing but the plays named herein. All else is inspired by the recent movie. Sorry I haven't written in a while; I was grounded. It was justifiable, but please, continue reading. Please review, too.

Chapter 2

The room that he led Christine into was, in a word, fantastic. There were props from plays that were "retired" all over the room: the throne the Devil sat in for "A walk through Heaven and Hell", the dining table from "Imaginary Family", the desk from "Baron Saturday" and the dining chairs from "the Guests of the Angel".

"Are you hungry?" he asked her.

"Yes," she replied.

"I'll be right back."

He returned with two plates of spaghetti. He set them on the table and watched her eat.

"Aren't you going to eat?" she asked him.

"I'm not hungry, yet," he replied. His stomach growled at him.

"You're eating. That's final."

"Fine," he told Christine. He snuffed out the candle in front of him, engulfing himself in shadows as he ate. Afterwards, he left the table and relit the candle. His previously green eyes were now blue.

"What color are your eyes, really?" she asked, realizing where the missing costume contact lenses in the theater went.

"Well, they looked blue when I just looked in the mirror."

"Is anything that defines you real?"

"Yes, my soul. The rest would send you running in terror."

"I doubt that," she said, "You seem too kind to startle me in any way. You are just like your painted roses. You are covered in darkness and fantasy, but it just masks your beauty and purity."

"That reminds me!" he exclaimed, and ran to another room. He returned with a white rose.

"I didn't paint this one because I wanted to give you something I've never given anyone. I planned to give this to you at dinner, here, in the Kingdom of Dreams, as I call it," he said.

"You planned to get caught?" she asked incredulously, raising her delicate brown eyebrows in surprise.

"I'm the Phantom. You wouldn't have caught, otherwise, no matter that you are very clever."

"What's your real name?"

"The Phantom. Why did you and Mr. Jacobs move here?"

"We felt like a change in scenery, and he is a high school theater director. Wait. How did you know that we were a family?"

"I'm me. I know every relationship in this theater. When were you adopted?"

"I was pretty young. I think I was five. It was Christmas when he found me and adopted me. He's been my father ever since."

"I truly respect him a lot. He is a good man. In fact he sometimes little meals and snacks for me. I write the plays in order to repay him, even if it is in some small way. Actually, I think that I better bring you back to the real world. He must be worried sick about you."

"Can I at least see the eyes you were born with before I go?"

"NO!" he roared vehemently, "Never ask that again! Ever!"

Just as fast as his temper flashed, it burnt out into sorrow, and he said "You'd never want to see even them. I am evil. I am good. I need to be covered in order to be looked upon without disgust."

"No, you don't," she responded flatly, "but I won't asked again until you're ready."

"We'd better get going. Mr. Jacobs must be worried sick about you."

They returned to the surface. When they got there, he did the unexpected. He hugged her and pressed the mask's lips onto hers.

"I will see you later. Count on that," he said.