"Come inside, Madeleine," Jacques called, peering out into the cold street. Madeleine nodded in agreement and covered the cart, following him inside. Slowly, she began to shed her layers of thin wool coats. When she had finally taken her coats off, she was left in a long, wool dress that covered her arms and up to her neck. It was one of Jacques' wife's old dresses she had left behind years ago when she had passed. Madeleine had expected him to be sad, but he seemed quite happy to see her wearing the dresses. They were, after all, incredibly warm.

"I think its time to turn in the cart for the season," Madeleine said, sitting by the small fireplace. "It is getting so cold outside and I fear the fruit may die."

"Hm," he nodded in agreement. Slowly he sat down beside her, slumping his shoulders and looking down at the floor. "Madeleine…"

"Yes?" she asked cautiously, looking at him in worry.

"I've been putting off telling you this," he began sadly, "we've been asked to leave…"

"Leave?" she asked.

"Yes," he replied, looking up at her. "They plan to put a factory here and want us out by the day after tomorrow. I'm so sorry I didn't tell you sooner, but I've been hoping to find some sort of solution."

"Jacques," Madeleine began, placing her hand on his shoulder. She wasn't sure how to respond to this; she had nowhere to go and wasn't too sure if he had anyplace as well. "Where will you go?"

"Me!" he laughed, throwing his head back. "Me? You hear this news and ask about me?"

"Yes…" she answered, looking in confusion at him. She knew she had nowhere to go, but she didn't want to think about that just yet.

"I've got a daughter a few towns south from here, Madeleine," he said reassuringly, "It's you I'm so worried for. I mean, you're more than welcome to join us, I'm sure she wouldn't mind. I've written her and she's happy to have you!"

"Well…" she said, sitting back in her chair thoughtfully, "I…"

"I've been to forward, Madeleine," he said in apology. "If there is another place you have, please, do not feel so obligated to come."

"Jacques…" Madeleine said, taking his hand again, "I've got no…" She paused, remembering the one place she still had. But could she return? Or was her stay only temporary? Would he allow her back?

"What is it?"

"I've got one place," she replied, "but I'm not too sure of it…"

"You mean…"

"Yes," she replied.

"Alone?"

"No," she answered, "I don't think so." She rose quickly, looking out the small window. "I've got to see… There isn't much time until you go."

"Are you sure?" he asked.

"No, but there's only one way to find out." She took his hand, kneeling before him with a smile. "Thank you, Jacques. You've been so kind to me. I've no way to repay you."

"Madeleine," he sighed, "you owe me nothing. Go, find what you need to find." She rose, pulling on one of the wool coats and a scarf as she headed to the door.

"It's not a what, it's a who." She said, and flew out of the small home with a smile.

The streets were still cold as the night grew darker. Her footsteps grew faster as she grew colder, hurrying toward the large set of steps, the tall columns, and the huge doors of the empty opera house. Quietly, she pulled the door ajar and snuck through, hearing the door close behind her.

The opera house was silent.

But why wouldn't it be? He was always in his beautiful lair… Erik always called it a lair. Madeleine gazed up at the large staircases and dusty and ruined statues. The mirrors still lined the walls, but they too were covered in dust. Slowly, she made her way up the stairway and into the theatre, searching and finding a lantern that would still light. It was dim, but it illuminated the theatre enough for her to see.

She moved through the theatre, passing through the audience and finding her way to the orchestra pit. There, sat the small record player they had danced to months ago. Her hand grazed the record, drawing a small line in the dust as she remembered his gentle hands, leading her in the dance. She smiled to herself and continued to the back of the pit where a small set of escape stairs sat beneath a trap door. This was how she made her way up onto the stage.

Madeleine took in the sight of the home she had always known. In her mind, she could still see the audience, dressed in their beautiful clothes and jewels, applauding the ballets and arias. It seemed as if the small flames would illuminate the stage when she opened her eyes, but the only light she had was the small lantern in her hands.

"Erik?" she called quietly, her voice seeming to refuse to work. There was no answer. The silence engulfed her and she turned, making her way backstage and to the dormitories. She passed the small rooms and finally made it to the single room where Ms. Daae had slept. The same damp breeze blew from the gap behind the mirror and she shivered the cool air wrapped around her.

She gasped loudly as a mouse trampled over her feet and laughed at her own silliness. Come on, Madeleine, it's a mouse, she scolded.

"Monsieur?" she called again, her voice louder than before. It seemed to echo through the emptiness of the corridors and disappear to the place where echoes went. There was no answer once again. "I don't think I can make my way down those stairs again, especially by myself." With this decision, she turned toward the prop rooms, hoping for something.

As she made her way down the same stairs she had fallen down the first time she came, she smiled at the memory, making sure not to fall once again. She rummaged through the props and costumes as she did before and found another pair of pointe shoes. A smile overcame her face and she carried them with her as she made her way back to the stage.

"It seems I can't make myself part with you, can I?" she smiled to herself as she sat down, placing the lantern beside her. "He'll come up sooner or later, and I've got all day tomorrow as well." She smiled again, removing her boots and sliding the pointe shoes onto her feet.

"Oh, I've missed you," she smiled, standing up on her toes. "Uh…" she grimaced, "It seems I've been out of practice much too long." Her toes ached, but after a few moments, she was able to bear it again. Madeleine danced across the stage, smiling and laughing to herself as she spun and stepped, balancing on her toes.

"I wasn't aware we were doing a wintertime ballet," a voice echoed through the stage, making her stop mid-twirl and fall, right on her bottom. "Still graceful, I see."

"So you did hear me…" she sighed as she began to unwrap the laces of her shoes.

"So I've arrived and you're leaving already?" the Phantom's voice questioned.

"Leaving…" That's when reality struck her hard.

"Yes… you've come for more pointe shoes I assume?" he asked, still remaining in a mysterious hiding place.

"Not for pointe shoes… no." Madeleine sighed, replacing her footwear.

"So what have you come for? Perhaps another dance?" He continued to play.

"Monsieur," Madeleine chided, "It's much easier to speak to someone I can actually see."

"Then I'll no longer be Phantom, as they have so cleverly named me." he replied with a little laugh. She stood. "Better?" Madeleine jumped, turning to face the masked man who seemed to materialize behind her. "Haven't changed one bit, have you?"

"It seems you haven't changed as well," Madeleine laughed, smoothing her dress.

"Now, will you answer my question?" he asked, the unmasked side of his face grinning curiously.

"Well…" she began, turning away from him. "I've moved with that gentleman who helped me that night…" It seemed it was harder to say this than she thought.

"Yes," the Phantom nodded, stepping back into her line of sight. "He has treated you well I hope?"

"Very well…" she replied with a nod, turning again.

"Oh you haven't fallen for an old man, have you?" he grinned.

"No! It's just…"

"Yes?" He stepped back into her line of sight and she dropped her head, feeling the anxiety she hadn't expected.

"Well… they've asked us to leave the house. A factory is to be constructed there."

"So you've come to say goodbye?" he asked quietly. This time, he didn't step back into her line of sight.

"I'm not sure." she replied. "Monsieur… I've…"

"Madeleine," he said, pushing her chin up to meet his eyes, "What is wrong?"

"He's offered me to go with him, but…"

"Yes?"

"I can't bring myself to leave Paris…" she answered. "But I've got nowhere to go and…"

"Yes?"

"Monsieur, I'd like to come live here again…" she asked timidly, hoping for a pleasant answer. He laughed at her question.

"Is that all?" he asked and she nodded. "I was afraid I would have to rescue you from another low-life chasing your beauty!"

"Erik!" she said, pushing him back with a smile.

"I was wondering what happened to the Madeleine I remember," he smiled.

"Monsieur?"

"Mademoiselle, this opera house is as much mine as it is yours." He said with an elegant bow.

"Oh merci!" she gasped, throwing her arms around him. He laughed, stumbling back from her weight. "Monsieur…" she began, noticing his unusually happy speech.

"Oui?"

"Have you been drinking spirits?" she asked, leaning into him, smelling the sharp smell of alcohol.

Her answer was a slight grin.