Authors Note: I'm so sorry it took so long to update again and that the chp is so short. I am a slow writer! And I have a lot of school work so I have only so much time between school and sleep. You, my lovely reviews must decide whether you want longer chapters that are written over a few days or short chapter almost every day. Your reviews really help me keep writing. I love you all! gives you all a lollipops

If you have any questions include them in your reviews. All questions should be answered in time. (hopefully)

This is all I had time to write last night. I sorry. I'll try to write more!

Chapter 6

The Phantom stood behind the mirror. He watched as she slept soundly in the dark room, the dim candle lantern, still burning, casting a luminescent light on her features. Manon Moreau was older than her, perhaps only by a few years and she neither possessed her childish beauty nor her innocence that had so drew him into a torrent of longing those years ago.

Yet, this woman possessed some attribute that he had not seen in the twittering ballet dancers of so long ago or any other woman in that had stepped foot in his opera house. The phantom had seen a daring and fearless determination in her coal brown eyes. In every movement that she made in her pain showed her reluctance to be weak.

In the candle light, he examined her attractive yet boyish features: the supple arch of her dark brows, a truly French delicate nose, pale lips and skin that contrasted much with her tumbling brown hair. The Phantom remembered the scars upon her sides and stomach as he removed her shirt. He had dressed her bleeding wound, grimacing at the raw skin, and the small but deep hole of the bullet. He remember seeing her face up close, and seeing the gash on her brow that he presumed was that one she revived when he had thrown her to the ground. He saw a cut on her lip still coated with dry blood.

Her pallid lips and skin were signs of a fever that would soon over take her. Moreau was a disheveled beauty, but a beauty no less.

I have been alone for so long… He thought wistfully for a moment. Then with a growl redeemed himself,

You have known solitude all your life; you should love loneliness now,

He lifted a hand to his face so his fingers brushed the cold porcelain of his mask.

Love…

In a rush of anger, he slammed his palm into the icy mirror, sending a reverberating hum into the dark passage.

Across the dark room Moreau's eyes slowly opened and she rubbed her eyes. The Phantom watched grimly as she lay still in the bed for a few minutes.

Her eyes wondered across the dark room, settling for a moment on the mirror, then moving into the shadows. He knew she was looking for something. Moreau squinted and her eyes fell onto a dirty sack, her sack if he remembered correctly, the one he had retrieved from the alcove as she slept.

Lifting herself up on her elbows, she thoughtfully bit her lip and with a determined glint in her eyes threw her legs off the bed. The phantom took a step forward to leave his hiding place behind the mirror, intending to throw this foolish girl back into the bed. Yet he hesitated, seeing that she had steadied herself on her feet. Moreau gritted her teeth and began to limp, one hand pressed against the wound on her waist, the other against the wall to steady her. The Phantom looked on astonished as she leg go of the wall and made her way towards her sack that lay only feet away. For a moment she seemed fine, walking sturdily… then Moreau stumbled…

And she collapsed.

He was instantly at her side. The Phantom kneeled, and scooped her up into his arms with surprising strength. She let out a whimper, her eyes opening slightly.

"You fool; this is the second time I have had to peel you from the floor!" He hissed acidly, stalking back to the bed, Moreau wincing at every jolting step.

He placed her back onto the bed.

"Insolent girl! I didn't do all that work to have it undone. You have a bullet imbedded in your side and You are weak." He snarled at her, stepping back. Moreau flinched at the last word, closing her eyes.

He noticed that if she had been pale before she was certainly now. Her lips were almost the same color as her skin. All blood seemed to have drained form her face, the dark circles around her eyes were more defined than ever, her eyelids drooped and her hands trembled.

Goodness, she needs to eat,

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