Disclaimer: I do not own any of this!

The Glade

Chapter 4:

My question lingered in the air and I couldn't help but lift my head slightly only to see his reflection in the mirror and those penetrating eyes from behind the cold mask. He did have a reason right? The Phantom, as he wanted me to call him, had to have had a reason to have taken me away from everything I knew.

He moved away from my chair and towards the door and only then did he turn to me.

"I expect you will find the answer to that question yourself at some point or another." He left, and I never heard the mocking click of the lock. Staring at the empty space he made left me feeling confused and I didn't like it.

Standing I moved to the comfort of the bed and tucked myself in. I laid my head down on the soft pillow and just thought.

I wondered about how Meg and Raoul were, what must have been going through their minds. Vague pictures came to me. Raoul was running after me as I ran from him. The glade, thatwas why I was running, Meg had told Raoul about the glade. Me running, silently praying that I could escape it all. That voice, the one that belonged to an angel, had been singing to me once more and then Raoul's desperate calls of my name.

I paused, something was missing. At some point between all those events the Phantom had to have taken me but when? I searched my mind but nothing came. I pushed myself up away from the pillow and drops of water fell to the coverlet. I was crying again.

Seeing the stains of my tears of the blanket made me fall back down to the comfort of the pillow.

"Dad…" It was the first time I had uttered the word since I had explained to Raoul how he knew me. Why had I not thought of you since? I knew why but I didn't want to admit it but I had to.

I had gotten so caught up in the idea of an angel singing to me, I had after all always loved fantasy. But now as I lay there all alone I couldn't think of anything else but him.

He had always been there for me and how easily I had forgotten him. Perhaps if I had thought about him more and not the voice I wouldn't have been in this situation. But what did it matter? What did the voice have to do with my predicament? It was this Phantom that had kidnapped me, not the voice. The voice, to my understanding didn't even have a shape or form at least not on this earth.

I fell asleep with that inner debate but some how I knew I was in denial about it all. After all hadn't his voice seemed familiar?

I woke up starving. Maybe it was because I hadn't eaten since lunch; actually I knew it was because of that. The only problem I faced now was how to get some food. For now I didn't want to have to get out of this bed unless I absolutely had to, the farther the space between the Phantom and I, the better.

Luckily, or unluckily however you look at it, my problem was solved as the door opened with that same click I was getting used to and in walked the Phantom himself carrying a tray of what appeared to be an omelet, which I'll admit looked very good.

It seemed to me that he wore exactly the same thing he had worn the last time I had seen him and one look out the window proved to me that it was morning so that meant he hadn't changed. I didn't know what to think of that just yet.

He didn't say everything, which unnerved me, but he did stay. I looked at him curiously wondering why he wasn't leaving or at least putting the tray of food down so I could eat it. Unfazed by my stare he kept his eyes on me for so long that I had to look away. While my stare was away from him he placed the tray down over my lap causing me to jump in surprise.

Looking back at him I noted the corner of his lips were turned up in a smirk and that even without making a sound he was laughing at me. I lifted my chin ever so lightly begging myself not to blush and instead turned to the food that seemed to be calling me.

Staring at the food now I began to doubt whether or not I should eat it. Maybe that was why he stayed to make sure I did eat it, that maybe there was some sort of narcotic in it and I'd be knocked out for god knows how long.

His words from the previous night came haunting back to me though.

"Know this, I will never harm you,"

Trusting those words I took a hold of my fork and knife and ate some of omelet.

It was delicious! I had never tasted a better omelet then the one I had in my mouth now. Forgetting about the other person in the room momentarily I devoured the rest of my breakfast. I heard a deep chuckle emit from beside me and this time I did blush.

"That wasn't so hard now was it, my dear?" He asked. I swallowed the chunk of egg in my mouth and turned on him.

"Stop calling me that!" I blurted out before I could stop myself. He didn't move, not even an inch, he was like a cold statue made of stone.

"What do you prefer I call you then?" He asked his voice cold and I was hit with the irony that my own questioning from the night beforewas being bounced back to me.

"I don't know, you think of something," I took another bite of the omelet as if it would give me courage. "And while you're at it I would like to know your name as well." I finished lamely, not wanting to see his reaction I concentrated solely on my eggs.

"I quite like the name Phantom though so I'd prefer that you continue calling me that for now," His last word gave me an inkling of a hope that I would eventually come to know his name. "As for what I should call you, why don't I just say Christine?"

The way he said my name so intently, how it seemed to just roll off the tip of his tongue made me shiver and wish I had a sweater on.

"I changed my mind." I breathed trying to get the feeling out of my mind and body, I looked down forlornly at my omelet; it didn't look as appetizing anymore.

"Very well then," Then he took the tray away from me as if he knew I wasn't going to take another bite.

I stood standing before the door I knew not to be locked. Several hours had passed since breakfast and I was becoming restless. Because of that I had begun an inner battle about whether or not to leave the sanctuary of my room.

So here I was; I could feel my breath rushing out of my lungs as if it wanted to escape me and never return. Everything outside of this room seemed eerily quiet that it drove me crazy to know what was happening out there. Like most of my time lately, it was spent asking questions that exiting the four walls around me would answer.

What was he doing? Was the place as extravagant as this room seemed? Were amongst the many questions that raced through my mind as I contemplated whether or not I should even open the door.

"It's just a door. Whatever is outside the door can't hurt you, Christine." I whispered aloud so I could hear what I was saying even if I didn't believe it. Reaching a hand forward I gripped the cool metal knob and slowly twisted it, half hoping to find it locked but I knew it wasn't. I was sort of disappointed anyway.

The door was open a bit now and I could see light filtering in through the opening. I had gotten this far, now all I had to do was open it the rest of the way.

I breathed in and out. The last time I had felt this scared was when I had watched my dad being lowered into the ground.

With a power I didn't know I possessed, I flung my arm out and it hit the door forcefully causing it to swing on it hinges.

"Wow." That was the only thing I could say as I looked upon my surroundings. The room was surprisingly simple but yet detailed to the very last thread of the exotic rug covering the wooden floor. The room was bare of many items that usually were in a foyer and was lighted by only a single chandelier but it seemed perfect nonetheless.

What was there though was a simple mahogany table with a bouquet of red roses situated on it in the center. Besides the table there were a couple of chairs placed conveniently by bookshelves filled to the brim with books, which seemed to be almost older then I was; a fireplace, and a coat hanger with a two coats and afedora resting on it, one of the coats I noticed was my own and the other along with the hat were black, near a wide wooden door I assumed to be the exit.

My heart jumped at the sight of that door and my feet carried me over to it but as I did I passed another door so plain that I almost missed it, but from within that room I heard something.

Edging away from the exit I centered in on that entryway stopping just before it. I was certain now that what I was hearing was music, beautiful piano music. I eyed the doorknob that just screamed to be opened but what would I do once inside?

I didn't know how but I knew it was the Phantom playing the haunting music from within the room and hadn't I earlier said the farther distance between us the better, and for all I knew he might not have liked to be interrupted.

All that reasoning was thrown out the door as before I knew it I was standing in the doorway.

I was right, the music was coming from a piano and it was the Phantom playing it.

I watched from that spot as his fingers daftly floated across the ivory keys as if they had been doing so their entire life and I didn't doubt that from being the truth. The Phantom seemed at ease while he played, as if it were his only solace in the world.

One step into the room and already I felt as if I were intruding on some sort of sacred ground but I continued. Moving to the only chair in the entire room I seated myself and just watched him.

The music entranced me and even more so was how deeply he was into playing. He was highly unaware of nothing around him, a dead give away of this was the way his hair, always seemingly perfect, was mussed beyond control.

I felt grateful in a way for his diligence to his music as it gave me time I had never had before to study my captor, this phantom or ghost. But I didn't have long as the song he played came to an abrupt halt.

Time seemed to freeze and I knew he knew I was there.

His hands, spider-like, scattered to and fro grabbing this paper and that seemingly organizing them all in the rush. All the while I sat stunned watching this until he finally turned to me so quickly I yelped, my hands flying to my mouth.

"Hello, my dear." His voice didn't betray any sort of exhaustion after that effort and I envied him for it.

"Hi," I squeaked in return. I quickly was brought back to reality and I really wanted to be back in my room. I was alone with him in a room I nownoticed had no windows, all that was in there was the piano he played and the chair I sat in.

"Did you enjoy the performance?" He asked with a sneer and I felt as if he were angry with me for trespassing.

"It was beautiful, Phantom." My voice rang throughout the room for what seemed like eternity. He grunted and turned back to the piano with a heave of his shoulders.

"Of course you would think the music is beautiful, my dear." I felt my face heat up.

"What's that suppose to mean?" My previous fear was abandoned for anger, he shrugged.

"Nothing really, you know music well enough to know when it is considered beautiful or not," He said nonchalantly. Confused as I was I kept pushing.

"It didn't sound like you liked my compliment though! Didn't you think it was beautiful?" I asked, I couldn't help but wait with baited breath for his response.

"Believe me when I say I enjoyed the compliment coming from you immensely, and as to whether or not I found the music beautiful? It was dull, I could've done better." My eyes widened, dull! He had thought that the music was dull. Here I was lost in his mesmerizing music and he found it dull, I wondered though if that was dull what did his best sound like?

At a loss for words I sat in the lone chair just trying to comprehend what it was he was saying. I never heard him get up until he opened the plain door that led to the magnificent foyer.

"It's nearing evening; I'm assuming you'd like something to eat?" I nodded meekly but stayed rooted to the chair. Tilting my head to the side I looked at him, his body seemed to tense under the stare.

"Will you play again some time?" I asked quietly. All the tension in his lean body relaxed and for a moment the indifference in his eyes faded.

"Perhaps later but for now you should eat," I nodded again and stood to follow him out the door. His arm reached out and closed the door as I left the threshold, closing with it the melody I had heard.