Julian swept Madeleine up to her room faster than she may have liked. She protested as often as she could catch breath, which was a difficult task given the number of staircases required to reach her designated room. The Opera House was still dark in the gloom of dawn; the way was lit by candlelight, a fact that Madeleine regarded with confusion.
"Why not use electric light?" she gasped, pulling up her skirts to avoid tripping on yet another staircase.
"I told you, they wanted to keep the place as close as they could to the original."
"I know that. I just would have thought…considering it was a fire that destroyed it in the first place-"
"In truth Miss Beckett, they were afraid of making too many changes. Out of respect you see?" Madeleine considered this with a strangled sigh, too tired now even to bother speaking. She took in as much as she could of the hallways they rushed through. She briefly caught the eye of every figure in the portraits they passed. She trailed her fingers along the bannisters and walls, caressing every splinter, every scar of the opera house; smiling in spite of the piercing stitches in her sides.
"For Erik?" she replied, finally catching enough breath to offer an audible response.
"Who?"
"Sorry. The Phantom?"
"Erik, huh?" Julian smirked, "Would you believe Madeleine, I've known about the Phantom for longer than I can recall and it never once occurred to me that he might have a name?" Madeleine shrugged,
"I would believe it. It's never often used; even when he was alive he was known as the Phantom. Julian, must you lock me in my room? It seems a little extreme." Mention of Erik had set Madeleine's teeth on edge. She almost shuddered at the memory of the road.
"It'll only be temporary, Madeleine, I promise." An oddly ugly look passed over Julian's face, and he stopped for a moment. He frowned at his hand before clenching it and hitting the wall furiously.
"Julian!" Madeleine exclaimed. She reached for his wrist and gently placed it back by his side. Julian seemed to have struck himself dumb.
"I'm sorry, Madeleine," he said finally, dropping his chin to his chest with a heaving sigh. "I just never thought they'd behave this childishly. Locking a young woman in a room like a caged animal because…" He stopped, and Madeleine raised an eyebrow. "They can." His voice trailed off uncertainly
"It's alright. I should have braced myself, yes?" She smiled reassuringly. She had not missed Julian's hesitation, but like so many of the strange occurrences so far, she chose to ignore it. "Anyway, I'll only be here for a short while I expect. Are we close? I don't know how many more steps my legs can take…"
The last Madeleine saw of Julian that morning was an apologetic smile before the wooden door gently closed. As she finally heard the key turn, click, and slide out of the lock, Madeleine released a breath she hadn't realised she'd been holding. She was surprisingly relieved by the solitude; her earlier unease had passed as quickly as it had come. The room was modest at best. A bed, a table, a window. It was all she needed. She pulled two books from her suitcase and placed them carefully on the table. The first and bigger of the two was Christine's old diary. Madeleine tenderly stroked the faded cover before carefully peeling back the pages and replacing the old photos of the Opera House and the inn. The second, slightly smaller, newer book was her own diary, it was leather, like Christine's, and blank save for a simple 'Property of Madeleine Beckett' on the inside cover. It had been a trying day for Madeleine, and the sun had barely risen. However the light that filtered into the room gave a warmth to the Opera House that Madeleine had yet to experience. It offered a certain comfort to her for the first time since her arrival. A small bathroom neighboured the bedroom and Madeleine took no time in changing into a fresh dress and re-pinning her hair. She splashed her face with cool water and stared intently at her reflection for a moment. She spent a good few minutes pulling at her face, twisting it into funny shapes, pulling odd faces, and allowing herself to be childishly amused before sighing at her irreversible likeness to her great-grandmother. She had thought the resemblance might give her courage, as it often did. But she didn't want to be Christine here, not while Erik…
No.
She pushed the memory away firmly.
No again.
She pushed the hallucination away firmly. For that was the only explanation. A hallucination brought on by stress and a well trained imagination. She returned to the bedroom to close her suitcase, and with one foot she nudged it under the bed before falling, sprawling lightly across the sheets. The room was minus a clock, and after a period of staring wide-eyed at the ceiling, Madeleine lost all sense of time. She assumed that perhaps Madam had forgotten her, for Madeleine stirred only when darkness had once again fallen over Paris; and stirred only to slide between her sheets of the cold, unwelcoming bed. Despite it all, she was asleep in moments.