It was very difficult to convince myself not to immediately scamper off and search for Erik. I had no idea even where to begin. I knew, from all the stories floating around, that He lived somewhere under the Opera House. Hundreds of feet below civilization, below life. I also learned that no one, with the exception of Mademoiselle Christine Daae and the Vicomte de Chagny, had ever returned alive from the depths of the Phantom's lair. Still, I needed to see Him again. Needed to speak to Him again, needed to hear His voice again. I closed my eyes trying to focus my thoughts on that voice, so intoxicating, so alluring! So deceptive.

My eyes snapped open. I must be losing my mind! Here I was, sitting in some foreign dressing room, pining away for the Phantom of the Opera! He doesn't even know who you are! My mind screamed at me, planting seeds of doubt and reservation in my head. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't ignore the truth. When He came to me last night, helping mend my injured hands, I thought I had seen a spark of…something. Some wild, unnamed emotion, reflecting in his eyes. Those beautiful, deceptive eyes.

"Mademoiselle deCapriana? Are you decent for a visitor?"

"Just one moment please," I sweetly answered, knowing full well that the voice behind the door belonged to Madame Giry.

I found my housecoat lying on the dresser and adorned myself in the perky lilac fabric, what a perfect tone to compliment my mood! My face formed into a sarcastic smirk and I glanced in the mirror of the vanity. I didn't even give a second thought to the sheet lying on the floor. The sheet that once concealed the mirror. Smoothing out my hair, I called to Madame Giry,

"You may come in now, Madame."

The sound of a key clicking into the lock could be heard, and then, she entered. Matronly clad in appearance, I soon learned that this characteristic fit Madame Giry perfectly.

Her eyes immediately went to my hands. Clicking her tongue, she grabbed them from my sides and began removing the stained sheets. Her expression did not falter as she checked the condition of them, merely she went back to the door and emerged with another woman.

"Alessandra, this is Madame Carteu. She will see to your injuries." A short, rotund woman, clothed in a simple gray dress stepped forward. Her face, though lined with age, still retained a jovial glow about it. She smiled, and I politely returned the gesture.

I sat down on the bed, while Madame Carteu began to unveil numerous bottles and vials from the large bag she carried with her. While she was preparing for the treatment, I decided to voice my concerns about my position here at L'Opera Populaire.

"Madame Giry, I'm afraid I can't…I won't be able to work for some time." I muttered, staring at my feet.

"I have already discussed your position with the managers."

Surprised, I looked up at her, hope filling my somnolent eyes. "You have?"

"Yes, and they have agreed to keep you in accordance to your contract. Provided that you are able to resume your work in one week's time."

I couldn't hide my elation, my face breaking out into a broad smile. "Oh, thank you. Thank you so much!" I beamed, "You have no idea how much I appreciate it, Madame."

She nodded and turned her body away from mine, towards the mirror. I bowed my head again, not wanting her to see my shame. I knew that I would pay for my curiosity. She said nothing at first, only inspected every inch of that mirror under her piercing gaze. Silence engulfed the room, the only sounds emanating from my whimpers of discomfort.

Madame Carteu had begun tending to my hands, and I gasped as the stinging salve burned my flesh. She only whispered mock comforts to me and continued her work. When she was at last finished, she wrapped my hands in fresh bandages and bid us good-day. As soon as the door clicked shut, I braced myself for the confrontation that was to be had.

I waited, my attention fully absorbed into the intricacies of the rug that lie before my bed. Madame Giry had every right to be angry with me, I had, after all, directly disobeyed her. She had been kind enough to let me use this room, to convince the managers to let me stay employed at L'Opera, and I had abused her kindness. She did not understand! How badly I needed Him! How terribly I yearned for Him!

I was only vaguely aware of her frame, now sulking up to the large mirror. I was too absorbed in my own thoughts. Maybe I could explain this all to her, maybe she would…

"Alessandra, I am sure by now you have heard the tale of the Phantom of the Opera?"

My head snapped up to meet hers, the inner battle of words inside my head erased at the mention of Him. I only stared at her, unsure of what to say.

Meekly, my mouth managed to form some sort of a response, "Yes, Madame. I have heard of Him."

She nodded, her thoughts clearly affirmed with my answer. She suddenly moved away from her fixed stance at the mirror, and came to sit beside me on the bed. I was taken aback by this action to say the least.

"Then you know of Christine Daae and the events that surrounded her temporary disappearance from L'Opera?"

I shook my head, "Yes, such a heartbreaking story."

Madame Giry's eyes glazed over, and for a moment I thought tears were beginning to form on the outside ridges. She composed herself and continued, "Yes, indeed. What happened here last year was very dreadful. Many people were…are still affected by this tragedy."

I knew not where this conversation was going. Albeit, I was still very grateful that Madame Giry was not angry with me for revealing the mirror. I was still not comfortable discussing this delicate subject with her, but I was fascinated at the prospect that she would reveal something I did not yet know about Erik.

"Alessandra, He is a very eccentric man." Each word was carefully thought out and spoken with the utmost of concern.

I tilted my head questioningly, my eyes searching hers in curiosity. "I'm not sure I understand."

"I know that He visited you last night. I know that you have no doubt figured out the secret of the mirrors," she sighed, motioning towards the wall that was adorned with the reflector. The mirror! Of course, He had come to me last night from the mirror! This was the secret Madame Giry was hiding, the secret I had happen to stumble upon.

"I, nor anyone else, can predict His actions, His desires," a look of foreboding shrouded her likeness, "I only can warn you to exercise extreme caution. We do not want the past to repeat itself."

I did not possess the amount of attention needed to fully comprehend the words, I was enthralled with the mirror. My mouth hung open in a dumb stupor, my head vaguely bobbing in response to her warning. There was a shift in weight beside me and I realized that Madame Giry now moved towards the door. I forced myself to turn toward her, still not leaving the bed. She was leaving! I still had so many questions to ask her, she seemed to know much more of this Opera Ghost than I had believed.

"Madame Giry, I have heard nearly everyone here in the theater speak of Him. They speak of such cruelty, such brutality. They talk about Him as if He were not human, not deserving of kind words."

Her shoulders rounded for a moment, then she regained her posture. Turning about to face me, she sluggishly walked over to the bed, carrying an invisible weight upon her aged body. A shaky hand caressed my shoulder.

"I can not understand why people are incapable of seeing past His appearance."

I shuddered. I knew all too well the burdens that a face could produce.

"He is so full of passion, so full of love. These emotions are just misguided, suppressed for so long that they have twisted into obsession, and He…" she stopped, afraid to continue. Her head bent, her eyes looked up at me through her sparse lashes.

"He has become mad."

It was a whisper so quiet I thought for a moment that I did not hear it at all. The words hit me hard. It became difficult to keep my breathing steady, I stood up ushering Madame Giry towards the door. My heart thudded inside my chest, each beat wanting to forget what it had just heard. My mind, however, replayed the words over and over again.

"Thank you, Madame, for all your help. It is much appreciated." I was surprised by the icy demeanor my voice had taken on. If she questioned my sudden change in conversation, she made no mention of it. With a lopsided smile she left, gently closing the door behind her.

It took some severe self control not to dash over to the mirror and try to pry it open with my useless hands. I tried to calm myself and continued to prepare for the day. I chose a pale blue gown from the dresser and twisted my waves into a tight bun at the base of my neck. Trying to ignore the mirror was no easy task. Just as I slipped my tiny feet into the cold black ballet flats that lie beside the door, I heard a noise. I jumped back towards my bed, startled by this. I glanced around the room, there was no sign of anyone. No sign of Him.

My mind was playing tricks on me. Still, I could not overlook the fact that the mirror was there, and that probably meant that He was also there. Madame Giry had just revealed that Erik could leave and enter rooms as he pleased via the mirrors, I suddenly was filled with a newfound respect for this man. He certainly was a genius! But, with this new respect came more fear. Fear that He be anywhere at any given moment. He became mad! Mad!

I brushed my insecurities about Him aside. My curiosity took over once again. Without thinking, I rushed to the mirror, desperately trying to open it and reveal the passageway I knew was lurking behind the glass. I pushed, I pulled, I pounded and shouted His name. All to no avail. I frowned, a childish pout forming over my mouth. With my hands firmly planted on my hips, I gave one last glance around the room and opened the door to leave. As I stepped over the threshold, I noticed something on the exterior of the door I had not seen before. Strange letters were imprinted on the wood, as if to mark the property of the room. The words were faded and almost illegible, but nonetheless there. On the outside of the dressing room door, in washed out script was the name Christine Daae.