A/N: I am EXTREMELY sorry for the long wait. And it's not even an exceptionally long chapter, either! School started about two weeks ago, and I've already had3 tests and 4 quizes. My teachers have this odd fascination with homework, too, and they seem to enjoy dishing out a lot of it. So I've been extremely busy. I PROMISE you that it wasn't laziness preventing me from typing this up. I've had all these ideas in my head for a long time, but have just never found the time to type them out. So, please forgive me!

Also, I just did a quick spellcheck over this chapter, so there are bound to be some errors. And, Color Me Gray, I'm going to take you up on your offer of beta. I'll e-mail the next chapter to you as soon as I can write it out. Thank you so much for your help!

And to all my other reviewers, THANK YOU FOR YOUR ENCOURAGEMENT!

6

Warm Awakenings

The sun that morning seemed to sneak up on the inhabitants of Paris. The sky was dark and cloudy at first, forecasting a high chance of rain and gloom all day. When the clouds cleared, however, that bright yellow orb seemed already halfway in the blue abyss around it. Of course, the Phantom didn't realize this. Nor did his company, the young ballerina laying in his arms in a most precarious position.

He chuckled to himself and stroked her hair lightly, marveling at how soft and silky it felt. And the smell! He could drown in the sweet scent. A mix between spring rain and blossoming pears. He had been contemplating this smell for hours and had come to the conclusion that the spring rain was probably her natural scent and blossoming pears was probably what she used in the bath. He breathed in her hair - not too deeply, though, in fear of waking her.

The Opera Ghost studied her position and nearly laughed.

The caverns under the Opera House were freezing, despite the sunny day outside. And, though it may be sunny to the rest of the world, the Phantom's world was dank and gloomy. It was always dank and gloomy, and always would be dank and gloomy. He was used to the cold by now. Like a creature of the night, a ghost in the darkness, he could blend with his surroundings and adapt to his environment.

But this girl wasn't the black demon like him. She was used to light, to warmth.

The awkward position Amy was unknowingly in was probably a result of the Phantom's cold home.

Some hours ago, the girl had shifted in her sleep, her body seeking warmth.

Apparently the only warmth to be found was the Opera Ghost's.

She had awoken the Phantom as she snuggled deep against him, her head buried in the crook of his arm and her arm wrapped around his torso.

What made this position strange, however, was the fact that her leg had come up and wrapped around his thigh.

The Phantom woke up, as would any person who felt such a thing, and had not fallen asleep since.

Truth be told, he had not tried.

After spending most of his life...all of his life...in some dusty old cellar away from mankind, the physical contact felt nice.

For once, someone was touching him without hitting him.

And he sure as heck wasn't going to stop her!

Amy yawned and stretched, her body pressing more closely up against the Phantom's. He watched her curiously as she curled up into a ball and moved towards him as closely as possible. Her heart, which was beating against his chest, seemed to be moving faster now. She was beginning to wake up.

The girl's eyes fluttered open halfway and she glanced up at the Phantom, his face a few inches from hers. Amy blinked once...twice...three times. Still the image would not go away.

The Ghost could see her eyes slowly clearing from their sleepy daze. When they were once again bright green, they widened considerably.

She gasped slightly and tried to pull away, but the Phantom's hold on her waist was unbreakable. She managed to get a few inches from him, though, and had to settle with that as it became clear she wasn't going anywhere anytime soon.

"Don't be afraid," he murmured gently, and Amy flinched. A million thoughts ran through her mind at once. She was in a bed with a man. No, in a bed with the Phantom of the Opera. He was a murderer and could kill her if he pleased. Or...worse...

The ballerina averted her eyes from his mesmerizing bright amber orbs.

But he isn't hurting me, she thought desperately, trying to calm her frightened nerves. He isn't...and he says he won't.

she thought desperately, trying to calm her frightened nerves.

But still, the thought of being five floors underground with a madman and killer, far away from where anyone could reach and having no one who could or even would be willing to rescue you was a chilling one.

Amy began to shiver, not just from the cold that had begun to surround her tired frame.

"Are you cold?" The Phantom said gently, his grip on her waist loosening.

"Y-yes..." Amy stuttered, her gaze fixed intently on the wall behind the Opera Ghost's shoulder.

"Then come here..."

A small gasp escaped the girl's lips and she broke away from his grip, moving as far away from him as possible while still staying in the makeshift bed.

"N-no..." she stated shakily, her eyes filled with dread.

The Phantom latched onto her wrist with superhuman speed and held her firmly, preventing the ballerina from escaping the bed.

She tried to wrench free but, of course, it didn't work.

Smiling wryly, the Ghost yanked the covers completely off of her and pulled them over to him. He let go of her wrist and leaned onto his elbow.

"If you want to be warm, then you have to come to me."

Amy was frozen in place, eyes fixed on his. Slowly she began to quake, the cold enveloping her. She breathed out deeply and saw her own breath, just another reminder of how cold it was down there.

At first her eyes were hard, then after a while they turned pleading. Still the Phantom was unmoved.

Slowly - ever so slowly! - Amy inched her way towards him. Already she could feel the heat radiating off him, and it was oddly comforting.

She touched her forehead to his chest and stopped, her whole body rigid with tension.

The Ghost wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled the cover over both of them.

"Good," he stated gently and stroked her hair.

Amy found herself liking this position very much. His embrace was warm, despite all the stories of him being a skeleton and ghost, and he seemed very gentle, though she had been told he was the cruel dictator of the Opera. She inhaled deeply and sighed when she exhaled.

He smelt so good!

The men she had come into contact with at the Opera stank of sweat and beer.

But the Phantom! He carried a strange scent, something different but not unpleasant. It was like cedar wood mixed with some sweet smelling spice. Well, whatever it was, she liked it.

She was beginning to relax again when he spoke, the words vibrating through his chest and into Amy's ears.

"Are you sniffing me?"

The ballerina turned bright red and buried her head in his chest so he couldn't see. She mumbled something incoherent.

The Ghost chuckled and shook his head against her hair. "That's alright. You may smell me if I may smell you."

Amy's blush deepened, though it wasn't visible at the moment.

He lowered his face to the top of her head and breathed in deeply, one hand coming up from her waist to stroke her shoulder in a soothing manner. "You smell good, my dear."

"So do you," She mumbled, not expecting him to hear her. But he had, and he chuckled at her words. "Thank you."

She closed her eyes and tried not to think of how humiliated she felt. But it didn't work. She had been sniffing the Phantom of the Opera. How stupid could you get?

He didn't seem to mind, though.

Amy shook her head at her train of thought and sighed again, resigned to her awkward position: under the Opera House and in the arms of a madman murderer who smelt good.

A/N: About the Phantom's emotions in this, the last, and a few chapters to come. He is NOT in love with her. When I say he was surprised she accepted his love from him, what I MEANT was he was surprised she accepted his touches and acts of kindness (like saving her from falling). I don't know WHAT I was thinking when I wrote that chapter, but I can definitely understand how that would confuse you guys. I am SO sorry for that!

His feelings for her are developing. Imagine, if you will, being beaten and rejected your whole life. Wouldn't you feel a little exhilirated and surprised when someone actually touched you with kindness? That's the point I'm shooting for when I begin to build up their relationship. I'm also thinking of a plot which will involve the whole Har- I mean, corps de ballet. But ANY suggestions or ideas from you guys would be GREATLY appreciated. In fact, if you give me an idea or suggest something, I'll force Erik to hug you! Won't that be fun?