Henry:

'Who is she?' Henry paced his chambers incessantly for hours, thinking about the shadow of those once bright brown eyes, and the curls that used to be shiny and soft.

The gaunt woman he had seen in the cell at Bedlam was not what the Phantom had shown him. Why had he shown him that beautiful woman who had plagued his thoughts for months, turning him black and rotten inside out until he had had no choice but to rescue her from the Bedlam? And even then when he had had her in his grasp, the idiot Doctor had forbidden her safety!

Oh, what mortals corrupted this beautiful world, and it was only beautiful because Christine was in it. Oh, Christine, Christine!

And who was this Erik she had spoken so passionately of? Henry felt a twinge of jealousy and an automatic sense of loathing for the man.

"Do not worry, Foillet, he is not important to us any longer." Henry jumped at the masked presence in the shadows of the room.

"Monsieur le Phantom, forgive me, how did you know what I was thinking?"

"Pay it little importance, sir, it is not what I have come here to discuss." Henry let the matter lay for a while, pulling the creases out of his suit and straightening his tie.

"Phantom, why did she look so…so-"

"Do not speak of her in that state to me!" Henry tripped a little on the leg of the bed startled at the man's outburst.

The Phantom's face was red, and his mismatched eyes of green and grey watered a little, before he turned to smooth his hair and straighten his mask.

Henry longed to look on the face of his guide; he wished to see to what extent they looked like each other. But the Phantom had avoided his questions with dexterity, and never let him get close enough to wrench the white half-mask off his face.

"Monsieur le Phantom, once again I need you to forgive me, I am just so confused."

"Dear boy, of course I will offer my forgiveness. You are young and have no knowledge of these matters, and I realise I send you practically blindfolded by your confusion. I assure you, Foillet, it will become clear."

Henry nodded, his creased forehead still distorting his beautiful features. He grimaced as he was tortured with yet another vision of the beautiful, happy Christine, and her voice rang round in his head.

He shook his head to try and empty it of her, and the Phantom smirked. Henry's eyes flashed with anger, restrained only with his obedience towards the man. "Please, Phantom, how and why do you plague me with these painful visions of her? Please stop!"

"Why do I do it? Because I need you to love her as I do, and that is how she must be returned to me. And how? My dear child, Henry, I am inside your mind, as she is inside mine." The Phantom smiled, showing his white pointed teeth.

He stooped to examine the bottom shelf of Henry's bookshelf.

"Monsieur le Phantom?" Henry ventured.

"Hmmm?" He replied distractedly.

"Am I…am I mad?"

The Phantom looked up from the books, straight into Henry's eyes, sending a shiver down his spine.

"My dear boy, who can tell these days?"

And with that, he was one with the shadows, and had disappeared.