CHAPTER RATING: PG

DISCLAIMER: The lyrics in this chapter are, of course, "Think of Me" from The Phantom of the Opera, written by Charles Hart. Music is by Andrew Lloyd Webber, but I'm not sure I have to tell you that because 1) you know it's by Andrew Lloyd Webber (I hope) and 2) I'm not exactly using the music here, am I?

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is where the story starts getting good, in my opinion. Anything previous to this is simply rationalizing everything that comes after it.

The following day, Winifred wore black- the most durable of all colors. When the driver dropped her off, she marched, stumbled and pushed her way to the gate in the water. She refused to give up. Whomever the Phantom was, he was rude, and Winifred would not stand for it. He could at least reject her properly and politely!

"Hello? Are you there?" she called again. "My name is Winifred Deschanel and I am here to take lessons from you!"

No answer.

Winifred sat down in the boat to wait, but in a more determined fashion this time. After a few minutes, she thought that maybe she would have to prove herself as she did for Madame Giry. But what song? Carmen again? Maybe something that was done here. Something from when she came to see Christine Daae's debut!

She stood and cleared her throat. She opened her mouth, hesitated, and began in forced confidence.

"Think of me
Think of me fondly when we've said goodbye
Remember me
Once in a while, please promise me you'll try
When you find that once again you long to take your heart back and be free
If you ever find a-"

"WHO ARE YOU?" a voice boomed so loud that Winifred couldn't tell where it was coming from. She was suddenly terribly frightened and unbearably overjoyed at the same time.

"Winifred Deschanel," she almost shouted. "I'm here to take singing lessons from the Phantom of the Opera."

She heard a low laugh that sounded as if it was coming from everywhere. "And why do you think I would give lessons to you?" asked the voicecondescendingly.

She opened her mouth to answer, but found that she didn't have one. Instead, she just said, "Why wouldn't you?"

He did not answer but, after a pause, the gate rose and Winifred was able to push herself to shore in triumph. As she stepped on land, a man appeared from a side room, walking towards her. He wore an old, torn shirt, black pants, and was putting on a black jacket; his hair looked neatly combed. But his most distinguishing piece of attire was a white mask that only covered half of his face. It was the Phantom. While he had an awesome presence about him, he was a slightly less impressive character than Winifred had previously been led to believe. His movements dragged. He seemed sad. And very tired.

He sat down at an organ which seemed to be the centre of this domain and began making notes on sheets of paper. "Who sent you?" he asked sternly without looking up.

"N-no one," Winifred replied. "I mean, Madame Giry told me where to find you, but-"

"And what persuaded her to do this?" he asked.

"She...said that she approved of my voice."

"Your voice is pretty," said the Phantom. It wasn't a compliment. "But you lack any skill whatsoever. My last pupil was practically raised in the theatre. Will you ever compare?"

Compare? To Christine Daae? Winifred had always fantasized about such things but had never thought of them as a reality. However, she knew that to be good at anything, she must believe that she is the best in the world, whether it was true or not.

"Yes," she replied firmly.

The Phantom finally looked at Winifred, a wry smile on his face. "Come here," he commanded.

Winifred obeyed. The Phantom's gaze caused her breath to shorten; his eyes were deep, dark, and piercing. She was now standing at his side.

"Sing the scales for me."

"Scales?"

"Yes, scales." When he realized that Winifred didn't really know what he was talking about, he seemed a little annoyed. "Scales! You know," and he played five ascending followed by four descending notes on the organ, then moved up so that the notes were higher, then up again, "and so on."

"Alright," Winifred said quietly. She cleared her throat.

"Try not to clear your throat," he said. "It hinders your singing more than it helps."

"Alright." She prepared herself to sing and cleared her throat again. She winced. "Sorry." And she began, "La la la la la la la la la. La la la la la la la la la. La la la la la la la la la," until she could go no higher.

"Good, good. Now do this." He played the same notes, but instead he moved down between each set.

"Alright." She cleared her throat.

The Phantom then took her hand and jabbed it with a needle.

"Ouch!" Winifred screamed. "Why did you do that?" she said, squeezing her hand.

He looked as if he was trying to stop himself from smiling. "You get one of those every time you cough."

"But that's cruel!" she objected. "And what if I catch a cold?"

"Then I suggest you learn to recuperate quickly. Now, sing." He took her hand and held it, needle poised.

He was a sadist! Why hadn't anyone told her that? But the question was, were the lessons worth it?

Yes.

She nearly cleared her throat again, but caught herself. "La la la la la la la la la. La la la la la la la la la. La la la la la la la la la," until she could go no lower.

The Phantom released her hand. "You have decent range, but you need more support. Do you exercise your voice much?"

"What does that mean?"

"Singing! Do you sing?"

"Oh. Well, I try, but ever since my father found out that I want to be in the opera, he stopped allowing me to sing as much. He's...religious."

"Ah," said the Phantom. "Which is why you came to see me."

"Yes."

"How old are you?" he asked, folding his arms.

"Nineteen," she replied.

"Nineteen. And you're still under your father's command? Have you not a husband? A fiancé?"

"No. I don't- that is to say, my father doesn't let me see many men. I believe he wants me to become a nun."

For some reason, the Phantom seemed to find this very amusing. "A nun? You poor child." He was laughing.

Normally, Winifred would be angry with someone for acting like this, but it was strange seeing the Phantom laugh. Although it was at her misfortunes, it made him seem very human.

"You must leave now," he said suddenly, standing. "Come back tomorrow and I will have more prepared for you."

"Alright," Winifred replied warily. "Um, thank you."

He did not reply, so Winifred got in the boat and pushed off.