(Sorry for the long break in writing! College has been crazy busy. However! I am back and ready to go :p)

Where am I? I wonder hazily. Come on, Adeline, what's the last thing you remember?

In a rapid flurry, my memories come back to me. My eyes flutter open as my heart beats out of my chest. I am back in the room where I was brought the first night. I jump when I feel a rough hand caress mine.

"Hush." The angel's voice soothes me from my panic. "Nothing worse than waking up in an unfamiliar place," he says, reading my mind.

"You'd think I'd be used to it now," I reply. The silence between us only grows after I speak. After a moment, he returns to the conversation.

"I'm… I can't say how sorry I am."

"You don't have to," I assure him. "You didn't mean to do it."

"No, that's not it." He looks away, guarding against my ability to see the vulnerability in his eyes. "I shouldn't have been so curt with you. About what happened to me, I mean to say. If your curiosity requires it, I should be happy to engage your interests. After all, I haven't had a decent companion to speak with in years."

"If it's too uncomfortable, I wouldn't make you relive it," I say. I give his hand a short squeeze. He looks at me, and I can see he's made up his mind.

"A long while ago, back maybe fifteen years, I was adopted by the owner of this concert hall. She raised me as her own, and for that, I can harbor no ill will. However…" he pauses, taking a deep breath. "… there was someone that came before me. The image and person I was expected to emulate. I, not being the man he was, couldn't measure up. So, the only way that my teacher could see to lift me up was to have me scratch my way up from below.

"This man, you see, was also malformed. His face, just as mine, was scarred terribly, only his was brought on by birth. Some even called him the devil's child as a result. I suppose my master thought that if I could look like him, that would be enough. The music, that didn't matter as much in the end as recreating the scene of so many years ago did."

"I don't understand," I tell him. "Who is your teacher? And why do they care so much about you looking like this man?"

The angel pauses, glancing in every direction as if to make sure no one could be listening in. "This master," he says finally, "inherited her great-great-grandmother's career. Not only was her ancestor the manager of a successful opera house, but she served the man I mentioned. My master, though she lives under a new name, is of the Giry family."

"Giry?" I ask. "Wait, I think I've heard of her…"

"You probably have. The ordeal of the Phantom of the Opera was the scandal of its time across Europe. Now, the Madame has become obsessed with recreating the story."

"What do you mean 'story'?" I ask, now more confused than ever. "I thought that was just a rumor!"

"It was made out to be, yes," he explains. "A plot meant only to draw attention to the theatre scene. But it was all true, believe me. I had my doubts initially. Supposedly, the Phantom trained a young orphan taken to live in the opera house, the Palais Garnier. There, he fell in love with her and pursued her all while murdering those patrons who did not comply with his rules of how the opera house was to be run."

"So what does this mean for you?" I ask. "You say she wants to recreate the Phantom of the Opera thing, but as far as I can tell, you aren't a murderer."

"No. At least, not yet. You're missing the first part of the equation."

I hesitate, thinking of the meaning behind his words.

"Adeline…" he says, looking at me with regretful eyes, "I was sent to kidnap you."

I freeze, finally understanding. This was no coincidence. Our meeting was planned, and I can only guess that the blackout was, too.

"So what am I supposed to be? Just a part of her crazy fantasy!?" I yell, getting more overwhelmed by the second.

"Originally, yes," he replies. "But I've made up my mind. I'm ending this plan of hers tonight. I never thought I would go against her, even when she came to me with the idea. But I can't go through with it. I am no more her puppet than you are, and if I have a chance to set you free, then I am going to take advantage of it."

I take a moment, mulling over all of what I've been told. Am I supposed to believe all this? Then again, what other explanation is there?

"I'm sorry, Adeline. I know it all sounds awful and I don't blame you if you're angry with me. I just need you to know... I was selfish, and because of it I put you in danger." He lowers his head, embarrassed to look me in the eye. "The plan was that I was to single out a girl, just one, and kidnap her. I'd intended full well to abandon the scheme completely, but..." he stops for a moment, unable to continue.

"Please," I say, "It isn't your fault. You were forced into it."

"No, you don't understand." He lifts his eyes, just for a moment, before averting them again. "I could have chosen anyone. Someone who deserved it, or someone who was with family or friends who would investigate and hopefully locate this place." The angel takes a few small steps closer to me. I am powerless to the pull he has on me, and with every inch between us he closes, I can feel my chest expand with the fullness of my emotion. He is so close now that I can feel the heat between our bodies.

"Then I saw you. I felt something that I thought was not only lost to me but had never existed at all." His hand gently rests on my cheek as he gently trails the line of my jaw with his fingertips. I shiver slightly, but I am not afraid. My eyelids feel like they weigh a hundred pounds and I lose myself in the sensation of his touch. "You captivated me almost instantly," he continues softly. "It was you I needed with me. It was all that I wanted, and I ached with the thought that I might never see you again. I wanted you more than reason could understand."

Only with his last words do I realize that I'd been unknowingly been moving closer to him, so close that I could almost feel each syllable on my own lips. I can't stop myself, but I can't make myself care. He is so close now, but even the centimeters between us feel too far. All at once, I know what he means. How he feels. It washes over me in whispers, as if his voice were the only thing keeping me afloat. It's like... yes, it's almost like it's singing. He turns me around gently in his arms, and I have no power to resist. Why would I want to? His hands trail over me without partiality, running along my arms, my hips, my stomach, my neck. I melt into his touch. A small gasp escapes me as his lips brush against my neck. It's intoxicating.

That's why neither of us hears the footsteps approaching.