XXX

The pale winter sun streamed through her window, onto her pillow.

Roxanne moaned and rolled over onto her stomach, snuggling into the soft pillow, licking her chapped lips. Her wrist was throbbing painfully, the fetters around it having rubbed the skin underneath raw.

At first, she was unsure of why she was in a foreign bed—chained to it, no less, but after a few moments her memory of the prior evening returned.

"Fuck," She swore, carefully kept the chain attached to the headboard lax, so as to keep the pain in her arm minimal. She looked around the room; she had not been able to take a good look at it the night before.

It was obvious the decorator was a minimalist, but a minimalist with good taste. The wallpaper was decorated with swirling patterns in crimson and scarlet, the brass bed-frame was decorated with porcelain fixtures with flowers painted on them, the hard-wood floor was covered in a rug.

For a recluse, she decided, he had good taste.

She shook the chain tied to her arm, how was she to get loose? "Monsieur Fantôme!" Roxanne yelled at the top of her lungs.

XXX

Erik lay sprawled across the sofa in his study, three empty bottles of Scotch beside him, and one barely-full one in his hand.

The heavy velvet drapes were drawn, leaving the room in almost complete darkness.

He tossed and turned uncomfortably, in a fitful sleep filled with nightmares. "Angel…" He murmured.

The afternoon quiet of the room was suddenly disrupted by a piercing scream, "Monsieur Fantôme!"

Erik's eyes flew open, he shot up off of the couch, a move he immediately regretted. "Ohhh…" He groaned, wobbling, feeling the full force of the repercussions of the amount of alcohol he had imbibed the evening before. Where on Earth had that awful noise from?

"Fantôme!"

"Ugh…" The throbbing in his skull intensified, he straightened his mask, he rolled over and put a pillow over his head, hoping the god-awful noise would go away.

"Monsieur Fantôme!"

Erik growled and rose from the couch, cursing in every language he knew (and several others he didn't). He flew out of the study, down the hallway to the young woman's room. There was going to be hell to pay.

He threw the door open, Roxanne sat on the bed, still in her nightgown, she was tugging at the chain he had fastened around her wrist the night before.

"Well, it's about bloody time!" She huffed, attempting to cross her arms, but the fetter restraining her. She would have looked comical if Erik were not so angry.

"Mademoiselle, are you bleeding?" He enquired, his voice in a deadly calm.

"No…"

"Have you been attacked?"

"Aside from you, no…"

"Burned? Beaten? Bludgeoned? Hmm?"

"No."

"Then, I suggest you be quiet!" He snarled, advancing towards her menacingly in the best manner he could manage considering how dreadfully hung-over he was.

She crossed her arms, she seemed to be trying her best not to appear intimidated, "Well, Monsieur le Fantôme, if you had not chained me to a bed, I would have no reason to scream."

Erik groaned, "Well, Mademoiselle de Winter, if you gave me a reason to think you would not attack me the second I unchained you, then I would not have done so."

"You impossible man! Unchain me this instant!"

Clenching his jaw—which only worsened his headache—he produced the key out of his pocket and unlocked the handcuffs around her wrist. He could not help noticing how thin the material of the night-gown was and how it flattered her figure. Ugh. He shook his head, disgustedly, "Pleased, mademoiselle?"

"Improved, at least," Roxanne said with a curt nod, "Thanks."

Erik rose—wobbling slightly, feeling rather dizzy from his headache—and started to leave the room.

"Oi, what's the matter with you?" She demanded, rising off of the bed and grabbing a silk kimono hanging on the side of the wardrobe and wrapping it around her.

"If you must know, I have a headache," He snapped, not totally willing to admit how much he had drunk the night before. He began to walk forward but was still a little wobbly. Damn it, what was the matter with him?

"Do you have any peppermint tea?" Roxanne asked.

Erik shrugged, "I haven't been here in ages, I haven't the slighest clue. Now, if you will excuse me…"

"Peeled apple, Chamomile tea and three aspirins."

"What?"

"Peel an apple and eat it, drink a cup of chamomile tea, take three asprins and go to bed," Roxanne said matter-of-factly, "It will help."

"I sincerely doubt it could fix this headache, Mademoiselle," Erik said mildly and began to leave the room.

She tsked her tongue in a fashion that was much too female-esque for Erik.

He rolled his eyes and left the room, it was going to be very strange to get used to living with a woman—much less this woman.

XXX

Roxanne watched his back as he left; she shrugged and closed the door after him.

She was still in shock over last night's events, not only was she a captive for an indefinite amount of time, but she was being held captive by a supposed ghost. An Opera ghost, no less.

Shaking her head, Roxanne went to where the pile of clothing she had shed, the night before, lay. Kneeling down, she rifled through them before finding the small bottle she had concealed under her skirt.

The laudanum sloshed in the bottle, she bared her teeth in a feral smile, tempted to uncork the bottle and down it. Yes, she preferred to smoke opium, but the laudanum was all she was able to afford, of late.

Also, she had to be careful, she had no clue what the Phantom would do if he knew, and there was no place she could get any more. She would have to ration the intoxicating liquid.

Her heart leapt into her throat, the full force of the statement hit her.

Undoubtedly, she was going to run out before she was released from this prison. That meant an eventual withdrawal process.

"Shit," She muttered, shuddering. Perhaps the good Phantom kept laudanum or pipe-opium somewhere in the house. She made a note to rifle through the house when he was next asleep.

For the time being, she was going to have to use the precious stuff, wisely. But, fuck it all, at the moment, all she wanted was oblivion.

With firm resolve, Roxanne uncorked the bottle, taking a long draught, and waited for the effects to make themselves known.

XXX

A/N: Laudanum is basically liquid opium, opium is basically the predecessor of heroin; they're both in the same family of drugs. Apologies for the delay.