The Phantom's blue eyes were curious. He had not spoken to a person, let alone a woman, for such an amount of time in years save for Madame Giry, and even she made him nervous. Should he invite her to sit? Or maybe she is hungry? She hadn't eaten in a while, she must be hungry, but he was too nervous to speak. Maybe he shouldn't have let her stay…

"Merci, Monsieur," she said, letting her hand slowly drop from his arm. He nodded, adjusting the black gloves on his hands. "Monsieur, would you know the hour?"

"You have been in my dungeon for less than an hour and already you have lost your sense of time," The Phantom replied with a smile. "It is the early evening, Madamoiselle, why?"

"No reason, I was wondering if you wanted to…well…find something to eat," she replied.

"Yes, I'm sorry…I have a small stove in the back if you'd like me to cook you something…"The Phantom offered, directing his hand towards a group of hanigng tapestries.

"I can…if you want…" Madeleine offered with a smile. "Besides, you saved my life twice today, it would be the least I could do."

"What ever you wish, Madamoiselle," The Phantom replied, bowing his head.

"Please, don't call me that," she said shyly. "Come, I will make us something to eat."

Silently, The Phantom led her behind the hanging tapestries and into another candle-lit chamber. It too was made of stone, and had several candleabras about the room. A small stove sat against the wall with a few pieces of wood beside it on the floor.

"There may not be much food here…what ever is here you may have," The Phantom said, opening a small chest which sat beside the stove and gazed helplessly inside.

"There's nothing there…is there?" Madeleine asked, slowly stepping toward him. She lay a gentle hand on his back and he bowed his head in sadness.

"No…naught but a piece of bread," he said, holding it up as an offer to her.

"Then I shall do what I have done almost every night," she suggested, straightening up.

"And what might that be, hunt?" The Phantom asked jokingly.

"Not necessarily." She replied. "There are a few merchants who are cleaning up their wares at this hour. They have apples and other foods that tend to fall off their carts and do not want anymore. I take their spoils for free."

"They just give them to you…for free?" The Phantom asked in curiousity.

"Yes," she smiled. "I used to do this when I was a younger ballerina. Some of the stagehands used to touch us…we gave them our food to keep them away. One night when I was walking down the street, a vendor offered me one of the apples that fell onto the ground. He said it was bruised and that no one would buy it, and gave it to me for free." The Phantom looked up in doubt.

"Are you sure you'll be safe?" he asked, stepping towards her.

"Yes, I'll be fine," she replied.

"But those men…they'll find you," he argued. "Let me come with you."

"Monsieur, I've done this almost every night since I got here." Madeleine smiled. "I'll be alright."

"As you wish, Madamoiselle," The Phantom replied, holding out his hand in respect. "May I escort you to the door?"

"If you'd like," she replied, placing her hand onto his.

"We wouldn't want anymore mishaps, would we?" he teased, bringing her onto the small boat. "Come, I'll lead you safely."

Madeleine smiled; he seemed to be warming up to her. There was definitely something there that she had never seen in him…something in his eyes. He was kind, but very shy. His mask seemed to hide the innocence in his face.

The Phantom docked the boat and made his way up the stairs. Madeleine stood for a moment, staring back at the winding corridors of water that led back to his lair. No, she thought, lair isn't the word for that place…

"Madamoiselle, are you coming?" The Phantom asked, pulling Madeleine out of her thoughts.

"Yes," she replied, running up to meet him. He smiled, the visible half of his mouth curving into a shy smile. She smiled back, blushing slightly as he took her hand and led her quickly up the stairs until they reached the mirror where she had entered before. The Phantom paused in the center of the room as Madeleine walked out, expecting him to be silently following her. His eyes scanned the room, locking onto a wilted rose which sat on the dresser before a mirror. Slowly, he looked up at the reflection which stared at him from the faded mirror.

"You're still a ghost…" he whispered to his reflection.

"Monsieur?" Madeleine called from the stage, "Monsieur?" Quickly he appeared behind her, gently taking her hand in his. She jumped in fright, and landed straight into his chest, her eyes looking up into his. They stood, frozen in shock. They had never been so close since they had danced that one night.

"I'm…" she began nervously.

"Will you be alright from here…?" he asked suddely, hesitant to move away.

"Yes…" she answered and slowly backed away.

"Are you sure you don't want me to come with you?" he offered. She turned from the small set of stairs beside the stage to answer.

"I'll be alright," she smiled and dissapeared into the audience.

Erik stood, center stage, watching as the door opened and shut, leaving the opera house in silence.