Madeleine was easy to carry; she was a thinly built ballerina, and she hadn't eaten in days. The food, The Phantom remembered; that's why she left the opera house, and he let her go alone. The Phantom shook his head, shaking the thought from his mind and concentrated on bringing her to a safer place. He weaved through the tunnels and turned a few corners to reach one of the wings of the stage. Cutting across the dusty wooden floor, he looked out at the audience for a moment.
"What have I done?" he sighed to himself again. But there was no time for his sadness now; Madeleine was in his arms, and he was the only one she had now.
He weaved his way through the backstage area and down the hallway, pausing at the dormitories. This is, after all, where she lived, he thought, but there were barely any blankets on her bed, and it seemed as if the frame were about to collapse from its own weight. Madeleine stirred in his arms, and he looked down at her bruised face. Slowly, her hand reached up to his chest, grasping his overcoat.
"It's alright, Madeleine, you're safe now," he whispered. After a moment, her hand relaxed, staying intently on his chest. He took one last look at the dormitory and turned to make his way down to his lair.
The mirror was still open slightly, and with the utmost caution, he maneuvered into the hallway, keeping Madeleine away from the wall. He made his way quickly through the corridor and down the stairs until he reached the boat. Gently, he laid her down onto the rich red pillows which hid the ugliness of the wooden boat and pushed off, guiding them slowly down the river.
She stirred once again, this time turning her head as if she was slowly waking up. Quickly, but gently, The Phantom lifted her up from the boat when they had docked and carried her up the stairs towards his swan bed, pausing when he gazed down at the red velvet sheets. This would not be the first time he had let a beautiful girl into his bed.
A familiar face flashed into his eyes and he pushed back the memory and locked it away. It was done now. The fire had ended it all.
He laid Madeleine down onto the bed, covering her in the velvet sheets. She stirred again, but still didn't wake. The Phantom stood awkwardly beside the bed, watching her calm face in unconscious sleep. Bruises had formed on her face around the cuts made from the man's knuckles and ring. His handprints were engraved in bruises around her neck from where he had tried to kill her. His heart sank.
"I can't believe I let this happen to you." He said, grasping onto the wing of the swan. A moment passed; the lair was silent, and The Phantom turned away and disappeared into another room. He returned with a cloth that was damp with a little water on one end. He sat beside her and carefully began to clean the dirt and dried blood from her face. She flinched slightly a few times, turning her head in discomfort, but still didn't wake up.
After a few moments, The Phantom's lip curved, almost like a smile. His blue eyes traced her bruised face and sighed. The guilt was outweighing every other murder he had committed in the opera house. He let her go out on her own, and when he heard her shouting from the alley and saw that man on top of her, he froze. For the first time in his life, The Phantom froze in fear. They were, after all, very similar.
Slowly, he turned away, leaving the cloth on a small stand near the bed, and lowered the translucent curtain around the bed. She deserved some privacy, he thought, it wasn't right of him to watch her. With the curtain closed, he wandered over to his organ, his hand resting where hers had when she stood in amazement at his lair.
"I let her go out by herself," he said, scolding himself. "The streets are no longer safe, even in daylight. What a fool!"
The Phantom turned from his organ and was faced by his reflection. He stood, staring himself in the eyes. Slowly, his ungloved hand reached up, touching his mask.
"You will never be able to live like a human, will you?" he asked himself, analyzing every aspect of his reflection. Quickly he pulled the tapestry over the mirror, banishing his reflection from his sight. He sat down at his organ and placed his hands on the keys, and began to play.
The song was not a loud opera or even an aria; he played a quiet lullaby he had never known existed. There was no name or any sheet music for it; he played it from the sight of Madeleine asleep in his bed. The soft notes and chords echoed through his lair, traveling through the tunnels and up into the rest of the opera house. It floated through the black curtain and into Madeleine's dreams.
Behind him and in the privacy of the black curtain, Madeleine stirred. Her hand traveled up to her throat, and her face tensed. Slowly, she began to wake up. She had a small ache in her head, but the music emanating around her soothed the ache and her anxieties. Who was playing that, she thought, I've never heard such a song. She turned her head, loosening her tense muscles and opened her eyes.
Behind the black curtain, The Phantom's lair seemed like another world. The curtain separated her from everything; she was surrounded and felt safe. The soft cotton and velvet sheets were gently strewn across her, and even her curiosity couldn't will her to leave their warmth and comfort. The playing continued, pulling her back into a dream-like trance. Her eyes found the faint image of a figure at the organ, moving with the music. It must have been him, she thought. The last thing she remembered was her husband's angry face.
Slowly, she left the comfort of the swan bed and stood, facing the black curtain shyly. She placed her hand on the soft material and found the seam where she could walk past it and into the other world of The Phantom's lair. The small slippers on her feet were wet from the streets and she slid them off, placing them against a wall to dry. Her bare feet tingled at the cold from the stone floor, but she paid it no mind. She was much too busy with her fascination towards the man at the organ. His black cloak was strewn onto the bust which was made to hold his mask and the tapestries along the walls had moved somehow.
She stood a few feet behind him, watching as he played, moving with the crescendos of the music. Suddenly, he paused, his hands still frozen above the keys. Madeleine watched silently, folding her hands in front of her stomach.
"I'm sorry," he said, still watching the organ, "did I wake you?"
"No," she replied quietly.
They both stood in silence, waiting for the other to speak.
"Thank you," she said, breaking the silence.
"For what?" he asked. Slowly she stepped toward him, pausing a slight distance away.
"You saved me," she answered.
"I did nothing of the sort," he replied.
"You scared him away," she said, stepping towards him again, "how did you do it?"
"I didn't scare anyone away," he said, looking up at her.
"Yes you did, you scared him away, you saved me from my husband," she said, looking into his blue eyes. The Phantom paused.
"That man…he was your husband?" The Phantom asked.
"Yes," she replied, slightly ashamed. "He was the one who attacked me." The Phantom didn't answer. "I saw you there. You were in the window. You came out and pulled him away."
"I pulled him away, yes, but I didn't scare him away." Madeleine paused.
"If you didn't scare him away, what did you do?" she asked.
"You need not worry about him anymore," The Phantom replied, walking past her and towards the other rooms behind the tapestries. Madeleine turned in surprise. She understood The Phantom's reputation for a pitiless punishment, but she had never imagined that her own husband would be murdered by the man who took her in. She turned and quickly chased after him, grasping onto his shoulder. He turned to face her, allowing her hand to fall. She pulled her hand back in surprise, cupping them over her chest as she watched The Phantom's face change.
"My husband…" she began, but The Phantom interrupted her.
"Yes, Mademoiselle, I killed your husband," he spat angrily. "He is dead and gone now, and you need to accept that." Tears fell silently down her cheeks as they stared at each other in silence.
"Thank you, Monsieur," she breathed.
"You cry and yet you thank me," The Phantom said, "You thank a murderer?"
"I cry because I am no longer bound to that monster," Madeleine replied.
"You are free then," The Phantom said, "There is no danger outside of this opera house for you." He bowed his head and continued into the hidden rooms.