The sun had already set over the streets of Paris, and the merchants, just as Madeleine had said before, were cleaning up their wares. Slowly, she walked down the cobblestone streets, searching for a merchant who appeared harmless. It was those who offered her food. A couple holding hands passed her by, walking quickly to their destination. Their eyes never wavered from their destination. Finally, Madeleine came upon an old merchant who was sitting on the side of the street, holding an old pear in his hands. There were a few tear drops on the fruit, and the man's head was bowed.

"Monsieur…?" Madeleine asked, cautiously trying to see his eyes. "Monsieur…are you alright?"

"Oui," he answered quietly. He dropped the pear to the ground and cupped on hand over his eyes, the other he held still. A quiet sob made his pain known, and Madeleine knelt to see him. A crimson red caught her eye as she gazed at his limp hand. It had scratches and one large cut which leaked the rich crimson.

"Monsieur…your hand, you're hurt!" Madeleine said in surprise. "Let me help you!"

"Non!" he said, pulling his hand to his chest. Slowly he looked up at her, revealing his bruised face.

"You're hurt!" she gasped. "Who did this to you?" She looked around, but the streets were bare.

"I don't know!" he cried. He was an old man whose face had been hit quite a few times. "There were three people; they wanted my food and I told them that if they had no money, then they couldn't have any food. They wouldn't listen, so they beat me and took as much food as they could!"

"Let me help you, Monsieur, please," she tried, holding out her hand. "Please, Monsieur." Silently, he took her hand and stood.

"My cart, Mademoiselle," he began, "it's ruined!"

"Here," she offered, beginning to clean up the torn cloth and bruised fruit. He joined in after wrapping his hand with a spare strip of cloth which came off of his cart. Once it was cleaned up, they leaned it against the wall and covered it in a new cloth.

"Merci beaucoup, Mademoiselle," he thanked her, kissing her hand.

"It is no problem," she smiled, helping him into his house. It was empty; he lived alone.

"I have no money to pay you with," he said sadly.

"You need not pay me, Monsieur," she replied.

"At least some food then, you look starved!" he tried again. "Here, I have some chicken and some fruit in here. I'll wrap it up for you." Without another word, he disappeared into another room and appeared a small package wrapped in paper and cloth. "Here, please," he said, handing her the food.

"It's so much, are you sure?" she asked.

"Yes," he smiled, "I have enough."

"Thank you so much!" she smiled back, retreating to the door. "I must be going…I'm sorry."

"Allow me, Mademoiselle, let me escort you home." He said, taking her hand and walking out the door. Slowly, they began walking down the road towards the opera house.

"You really don't have to do this," Madeleine said, pausing to face him. What would he say when she stopped at the opera house?

"It is late, Mademoiselle, and the streets aren't very safe this late. What were you doing out by yourself?" he asked.

"I was looking for food…" she replied.

"But so late?" he asked again.

"I've been exiled to the opera house…" she admitted. "I was a ballerina there, and my husband accused me of being part of the 'Opera Ghost scheme.'"

"Mon Dieu…" he replied. "No wonder you seem so starved."

"Please, Monsieur, if you see anyone, I was never here." Madeleine said. "I'll be dead if they see me on the streets."

"Come," the old man nodded, "I will bring you back to the opera house."

"Thank you, Monsieur," she replied, and they began down the street at a quicker pace. The streets were silent, and the sun had yet to rise, but just as they approached the stairs of the opera house, a quiet chatter caught their attention.

Three or four men walked out of a bar, followed by the bartend who shut the door and latched it shut behind them. Each man had a woman on his arm who held on tightly as if the few Francs they would earn were worth the trouble. A familiar laugh caught her attention and she froze, peering over her shoulder at the couple behind them. One man stood with a whore on his hip, kissing and touching her tauntingly.

"Monsieur," she said, turning away from the pair behind them, "we must go." He nodded quickly and continued quickly beside her. "That man was my husband." The old man took his turn to peer behind him.

"Come then, we shall hurry." The opera house wasn't very far away now; they were almost at the stairs, but their progress was stopped, by an arm snaking around her waist and a voice whispering into her ear.

"Bonjour, mon cher…" the stranger whispered into her ear.

"Excuse me, Monsieur," the old man began, "but you are interrupting our evening walk." The stranger laughed and shoved the old man out of his way.

"How sweet, you've returned to me." The man said, stepping in front of Madeleine. Her view of the opera house was blocked.

"I would never do such a thing." Madeleine replied, "I much prefer living in exile than spending any measure of time with you." At this, she began to walk around him, but he caught her arm and pulled her back. The old man pushed his arm away and separated Madeleine from her husband.

"Leave the young lady alone," the old man said in defense.

"Shut up, old man," he spat, whipping his fist across the old man's face. He fell to the ground weakly.

"How dare you!" Madeleine gasped, stepping toward the old man, but her husband stopped her, grasping her arm tightly as he pulled her toward him. The food in her arms fell to the ground, scattering about the dirty street. He pulled her up to him, his other hand latching onto the back of her hair.

"How dare I?" her husband laughed. She looked over at the old man who lay unconscious in the street. There was no one else around, and even if she cried for help, no one would answer. "I'm going to do what I should have done months ago," he grinned, pushing her toward the alleyway that separated the opera house from the building beside it. His grip loosened as he shoved her, allowing her to take a chance and run toward the doors of the opera house, but he pulled her back by the hair, throwing her down onto the ground. He continued on, pulling her deeper into the alley until there was barely any light for her to see.

"Stop it!" she shouted, trying to shove him away, but he wouldn't let go. "I didn't do anything!"

"You killed all of them!" he argued, "You and those others started that fire and killed everyone!"

"I didn't!" she argued back, struggling to push him away, but he managed to pull her so far back that there was no hope in anyone helping her. She kicked and pushed, but he was stronger than her. Beneath her, the ground was rough with stones which scraped her arms and legs as she struggled. She could already feel the bruises forming on her arms.

"Damn-it!" he growled as she pulled away from his grasp, but she was only halfway up when he caught her and threw her back to the ground, climbing on top of her with one of his hands holding both of hers above her head.

"I didn't start that fire!" she cried. "I almost died in it!"

"You killed all of them!" he growled. "You killed my brothers and the woman I loved!"

"I killed your mistress!" she argued. "I was supposed to be the woman you loved, but I guess I wasn't good enough! That whore of a mistress died in that fire and as much as I wish I did, I had nothing to do with it!"

"Shut-up!" he shouted, whipping his fist across her face.

"Ow!" she cried out in pain, "let me up!"

"You killed them!" he growled again, his eyes full of fire.

"Please!" she cried, but his fist whipped across her face again, leaving another stinging cut from his wedding band.

"You'll get what you deserve…" he began, gripping his free hand over her throat, "what I should have done months ago…"

"Stop it, please!" she cried out again, kicking her legs and squirming as much as she could, but no matter what she did, his weight overpowered her. She felt a weight lift off of her arms as more was pressed on her throat, and she pulled her arms out of his grip. His other fist whipped across her face, and she turned her head weakly, letting it rest on the cool stone beneath her. Her vision blurred, and her eyes traced the wall of the opera house, stopping at a small window behind her husband. For a moment, she thought it was because she was losing consciousness, but then she realized that the faint white she saw in the window was the mask she had yet to understand.

Her husband's voice faded back into her ears as another blow whipped across her face. He paused, his heaving breathing growing more and more full of anger. Then, something touched her throat. Before a moment could pass, Madeleine looked back up at her husband, just as his hands wrapped around her neck. She reached out her arms, but they were too small to reach anything past his elbows. Her eyes opened wide as she gasped for air, gripping onto his wrists weakly. Her eyes traced back to the window where the white mask still rested, watching helplessly. Spots began to cloud her eyes, as her grip grew weaker on his hands.

"Please…help…me…" she struggled to say, staring straight at the window. The white mask disappeared and her eyes returned to her husband who still stayed there, his arms pulsing with anger as he strangled her.

The white mask returned above her husband, wielding a noose which it pulled over her husband's neck, dragging him back and away from her. Her eyes shut as the Phantom threw her husband onto the ground, pulling the noose taught around his neck. One black boot landed on the man's chest, acting as leverage when he pulled the noose tighter.

His eyes were too full of terror for any last words before he stopped breathing and fell limp beneath the Phantom's foot. He moved his boot to the man's throat and twisted, sounding out an ugly crack from his neck. Now, there was no doubt that he was dead.

The Phantom dropped the noose and knelt down beside Madeleine. With his bare hand, he touched one of the cuts on her cheek, pulling back with her blood on his fingers.

"What have I done?" he asked himself. Gently, he picked her up and ventured back into the opera house.

A/N: the only thing I can say…is :)