☼☼☼

Madame Giry gasped at the touch of something clutching her shoulder. She spun about and met Erik, their noses barely an inch apart.

"Erik!" she cried out as she embraced him tightly.

Antoinette knew that Erik didn't like to be touched in such a manner recently, but those were the least of her worries. She felt his heart skip a beat at the collision and in turn, his arms around her. Then, his hands slid to her arms as he distanced himself. A short playful smile was on his lips and Antoinette couldn't help but return a smile.

"I believe this is yours." she took the abandoned mask from the writing table and offered it to the Phantom. His eyes glanced momentarily at the mask with vigilance and he took it. Erik held on to it, observing the curved edge and fingering the forged wrinkle on the brow of it.

"I don't need it for now." he then turned away and sat in front of the organ. It hadn't been used for nearly seven months; He stared at it, unsure at first what to do. His mind drew a blank; perhaps later he'll attempt to play.

"I never saw you sleep. I was worried that you may have--"
"Died...I know."

His fingertips caressed the keys lightly, as if any force applied would cause them to crumble to ashes.

"Do you always sleep like that?"
"Generally, no. However, the circus I grew up in didn't call me l'enfant quasi mort for nothing."

He stopped the gliding motion of his hands over the keys and furrowed his brow.
"I am perplexed, why did messieurs Andrée and Firmin leave? Where were they bound to?"
"But how did you know? That's what I wanted to tell you when I first came down here."
"Madame Giry, I do not fancy myself being called the Opera Ghost for pure delights. It is a standard way of living I choose to accept."
"Such a heavy note coming from you, monsieur."
"Indeed. Hist, something wicked this way comes."
"No! No! No! Non è possibile! I do not want to hear another word of it!"
"Is that--?"
"Yes, it seems like our prima donna is upset...and it won't be the last time."

Because of the several rooms in the Opera house which have been tampered by Erik, the Phantom would gain first hand knowledge of anything or anyone inside the building. Also, he didn't need go far, he would hear everything without detaching himself from his underground settlement. It was one of his many secrets and one of the very few which Antoinette ever knew.

"Is there anything else that I need to know?"

Madame Giry shifted towards the lit candles and felt ashamed.
"You have magnificent candles. I wonder how much time it takes them to decorate themselves with their own wax." Her fingers traced some of the dried rivers of wax on a candle.
"Forever, that's why I tend to manipulate their appearance most of the time. It's the perfect way to let time go by when nothing comes to me."
"Oh."

For a long time, both said nothing and Antoinette feared the moment. She felt his hand grip her wrist and violently turn her to face him. Madame Giry winced at the pain in her wrist. She saw the fiery eyes sheer her soul.

"Is there," his voice adamant, "anything else that I need to know?"
"You're hurting--"
"Is there?!"
"Please, I--" she felt very faint, like as if he held her throat instead of her wrist.
"Mademoiselle Daaè is back." Antoinette felt the grip loosen and took the opportuned moment to free herself. She held her wrist to her chest and sighed.
"I am so sorry." she said pathetically.

Nothing would restore Erik; he had lost all control and felt disgusted with himself.
"I'd like to be alone, Antoinette." he said stolidly.
Without waiting, Madame Giry directed herself back towards her own room. As she left the Phantom's lair, she heard his familiar melancholic voice echo.

"Forgive me."