A/N: It's been awhile, I know. To make up for it is a nice long chapter and hopefully an enjoyable one.

A week went by. In that time the notes continued, as did the nightmares. The Phantom (It felt strange realizing he actually had a name, now) would meet with me at the most unconventional times to deliver his latest set of instructions. I did notice after the first few days that his demeanor was somewhat different. He didn't go out of his way to insult and deride me. Then there was one day he didn't show up at all. I was curious and I admit, almost concerned as to this sudden change, however minor it may be.

It was while sitting up late one night on those same stairs, which was the most popular meeting location that I decided to search him out. He had not shown up again. I readjusted my cap over my piled up hair, not yet having changed out of my clothes for the night. Taking a lantern, I descended cautiously, one flight of stairs after another.

It was proving to be a fruitless endeavor searching for black amongst black. I figured calling out might help but what would I call him by? I still didn't feel right about calling him by name. It was like some deep forbidden secret that was never meant to be said aloud.

"Monsieur Phantom?" My voice was shaky. "Hello?"

Silence. Only the sound of dripping water. I prayed he wouldn't just pop out from some corner and send me into cardiac arrest.

"Come on, get a hold of yourself, you've been through tougher obstacles than the dark," I chastised myself. It had occurred to me to look for the old well he had brought me to a night not long ago. Trouble was, I wasn't sure how to find it, save for the fact it was somewhere between the fourth and fifth cellar…I think, not far from the underground lake. The thought of it caused me to shudder and once again I reminded myself to get a grip.

As it turns out, I couldn't find the well. But I did find him. I could make out a solitary figure by the eerie unexplainable glow of the lake, sitting at the water's edge next to a gondola. The fedora he sometimes wore was removed and I got a good look at his dark well-groomed but thinning hair. Taking a deep breath I crept up as quietly as I could, fascinated by him. But, in a moment of badly timed clumsiness, my shoe crunched down on small gravelly bits of rock and of course when one is trying to be stealthy, nothing could sound louder in that echoing cavern.

He whirled around and I froze. His eyes narrowed. "What are you doing here?"

"I…um…you didn't come." Was all I could think of to say.

"I had no reason to," he replied coldly. "That doesn't give you the right to just wander wherever you want."

"Courteous as always," I replied sarcastically. He turned his focus back on the lake.

"You shouldn't be here, go back."

"What's your problem?"

"What do you mean?"

"You seem awfully distracted."

"None of your concern."

"Is anything you do ever?"

Aggravated, he stood and sighed in annoyance. "Look, this is my domain and under normal circumstances, no one is allowed to come this far."

I wasn't backing down. I was catching on to his tactics of intimidation. "Think of it as employee access only."

"I told you, I have nothing for you now. Is your life seriously so dull you would risk it simply to seek an audience with me?" He snapped.

Yes. I realized just how dull and bleak my life looked right now, but I'd be damned if I admitted it.

"Don't be ridiculous. You've missed a couple of our rendezvous, I was merely—"

"What, concerned?"

"—Curious."

He sighed again, as if hoping I would've said the former. "Well, excuse me if I don't feel up to satisfying your curiosity. Now, go."

I wanted to ask about Christine, but he cut me off before I could start. "Get out, Buquet, I don't want you here!" He kicked at the loose rock, scattering it, narrowly missing me before turning away.

I noticed then that his breathing was uneven and his shoulders sagged. I should've just left him alone, but found I couldn't. Call it concern, call it pity, call it whatever you want, but I suppose I was moved by this sudden and uncharacteristic display of defeat. Softly, I approached him again and trying to lighten the mood said, "temper tantrums don't become you." He ignored my comment.

"She's seen my face." He said at last.

"Uh-huh…and that's a bad thing?" His eyes swiveled slowly to glare at me. And then, unexpectedly, he laughed.

"A bad thing? I'm dismayed, Buquet. Have you not been paying attention to the stories?"

"Oh, the stories, the stories; they are the result of the inner child's wilting imagination, feeding on the rapt attention of those with an ever-growing one."

He smirked. "Tell me, why do you think your brother died?"

My blood boiled. I could take the usual put-downs he shot my way, but that was below the belt and uncalled for.

"How dare you. How could you be so cruel as to bring that up?"

"He only had himself to blame. He spread rumors, revealed confidential matters—,"

"My brother may have been a moron but that hardly deserves death!"

"He was a threat."

"He was never a threat 'til you made him one!"

"Wrong!" He towered over me, advancing as I backed up, but our eyes remained locked.

"Because of him, countless fools have wandered down here, hoping for a glimpse of the infamous Opera Ghost! And I've dealt with them all."

My back abruptly hit wall and I realized he had me cornered. Still, I didn't break eye contact, watching his every expression, every move, in case he attacked. But he wasn't angry at me specifically, just venting. From witnessing his numerous mood swings however, it would be wise not to let my guard down even for a brief moment. I had to remind myself that even the briefest moment of recklessness could very well be my last.

"What do you mean by that?"

"You know what I mean. They were a threat to my way of life, obstacles. I simply had them removed."

Knowing what he implied, I shook my head in disbelief. "Do you ever realize how…childish you really are?" I spat, which only fueled his anger.

"Oh ho! Me, childish—,"

"—Yes, you! When you don't get your way you throw the tantrum of a five-year-old. Everything has to be yours, everything has to run according to your plan."

"And why not?" He shouted, that very childish rage overtaking his senses. "I oversee everything, I know how things ought to be run. Without me, this place would've been in utter chaos years ago. It would never survive!"

"So, apply for management."

At that he laughed, and it was an empty hollow sound. He reached out suddenly and grasped my arms, pressing me tight against the wall.

"You simple girl, what have we been bantering over the past ten minutes? You think I live down here to save on rent? You think I wear this dismal scrap for my health?" He gestured to the mask.

"And as I've said, it simply can't be as terrible as you're making it out to be. Times are changing, people can be more accepting, more understanding if you'd quit killing them first! You have to give it a chance."

And then he just…snapped. I'll never forget it. So many emotions passed through his eyes in that moment, I lost track. Traces of resentment, of sadness, wonder, regret…

"Alright, here's your chance!" He ripped his mask away before I could blink, breathing heavily and staring through me, waiting.

The typhoon of his fury had passed and now he just looked so broken. I can say that I didn't scream or run. But I can't say I was unresponsive. I won't lie. It was terrible, truly terrible. Discoloration, multicolored scars, things that should've been there, missing. Other things stood out far more than what was considered normal. I won't go into further detail, I don't think he'd want that. I took a sharp intake of breath and my eyes must've been wider than fishbowls. I uttered an "Oh my God," before I could stop myself, my hands flying to my mouth before anything else could leak out.

"Well, there you've proved it. You can't even practice what you preach."

His hands dropped from my arms and he turned away, even more broken than before if that was possible. Neither of us said anything. What was there to say? So many words raced through my mind in a jumbled mess, none of which could be formed into an appropriate—much less coherent—response.

"I'm sorry."

"Of course you are." His voice held all the bitterness of a shot glass of lemon-pepper vodka.

I sighed, picking up the mask he dropped and stood behind him, holding it out for him to see without invading his moment of solitude. "No, I really, really am."

His head tilted slightly down at the mask in my outstretched hand and he slowly took it. "Now, you see why I can't do what other men do, have the things other men have. Therefore my social methods are somewhat rusty."

I nodded, coming to sit down at the lake's edge next to him. He sat as well. "You know something my mum always reminded us children was, "there's always, always someone far worse off than you." I mimicked her voice perfectly. I thought I heard Erik snort.

"I can't imagine. I daresay I'm the end of the line."

"Oh, I don't know. Why not look at all you do have instead of what you don't?"

I watched him swallow that food for thought even though he seemed skeptical. "It's no wonder you're such a depression case all the time." I muttered.

"What?"

"But I suppose if you've got nothin' to die for you've got nothin' to live for, right?"

I thought I saw him smile, just a little bit. It was hard to tell—it was such a foreign feature to his face, as if he'd forgotten how to smile at all.

"I used to think that, every day of my life. Now…now, I've got something I'd gladly live and die for."

It wasn't hard to guess. "Her?" He nodded.

"She fills my life—the dark void it is—with a light I never knew existed. What light through yonder window breaks? It is the East, and Juliet is the sun."

"So, what happened?"

He sighed. "I should've known better—that women are born with an inevitable curiosity to anything that crosses their path. You've displayed several times yourself, don't deny it. It's no one's fault, just a woman's nature. It started out quite innocent, really. She was a little distraught from the evening's events—me, bringing her down here, confessing I was no more than a man, a man who loves her, heart and soul.

I thought I could calm her a bit by playing music, take her mind off things. Obviously, there was only one thing on her mind at that moment. I was so engrossed in the music…I heard her come up behind me but thought nothing of it, enjoying the nearness of her until…"

There was no need to finish, I could guess the outcome.

"I was so…stunned. A hundred emotions flooded me all at once and I fought between feeling abhorred, crushed, angry, dejected…and afraid; afraid that I had lost her forever and would never see her again. It was my temper that won. I don't want to even think of it, what I put her through. I know I terrified her beyond reason. There's no hope she'll ever come to love me now…now that she's seen everything that I am, a monster that only the worst nightmares could derive."

Something changed in me that night, I can't be sure what. No, it wasn't love. Far from it. Pity? Maybe. Compassion, empathy, most likely. I was beginning to understand him, figure out the riddle of his being and I found we weren't so very different from each other in more ways than one.

"I don't believe you are."

He looked at me incredulously as if I'd fallen down and smacked my head on pavement. "I killed your brother."

"And that's something I'll never easily forget or forgive. But I believe there could be more to you than meets the eye."

I've always been a sensitive soul, not by choice of course. I often kicked myself mentally. This man was a murderer! A man who killed for sport, a kidnapper, an enemy! He killed my brother for Christ sake! But I couldn't help but hurt a little just looking at him like an abused animal. A being so revered, so mysterious and powerful now so shattered, so mortal, so alone. It would be like watching a proud country fall and its beloved king right along with it.

"I must go." He stood, donning his fedora. "I won't be requiring your services tonight."

"Where are you going?"

"I still have a guest to tend to."

"That brings me to one more thing." His eyes narrowed, glittering dangerously at me, already dreading my question just as my queasy stomach dreaded his answer.

"You're eventually going to bring Christine back, right?"

Gone, was the sullen man I had spoken to only a minute ago, replaced by a dark menacing adversary, a ghost with ember eyes and a foul temper.

"She's not going anywhere."

"Oh God, when is it ever going to get through your head--,"

"She saw my face! Any woman that sees my face is mine forever. They can never leave and I won't let her go for anything." He hissed.

"What about me? I saw your face, I'm a woman. I know that's easy to forget sometimes but—,"

"What are you saying?"

"Take me instead?"

For a second it looked as though he was actually considering it. "Don't be ridiculous."

"Please, Christine's got so much life laid out ahead of her, so much she has yet to do. I…well…I really don't anymore."

"I don't want you." He sneered before turning on his heel, camouflaging himself with the shadows again.

"Join the ranks." I whispered solemnly.