The next several months passed in a very odd fashion. Candela rose, sometime about seven, went about the daily chores, cleaning and cooking, sometimes spent time reading when there was nothing else to do but never once would see she a single hint of the man she was sharing the house with. The only reason she knew he still existed was the music that flowed through the home continually, sometimes wild, sometimes painful, sometimes grieving.

Once a week, the maid would make her way through the tunnels and to the surface where she would buy everything they needed. She had found a small cache of money hidden away in the Louis Phillipe room, but, once the Phantom had decided she wasn't likely to leave, he had taken to leaving a small amount of money for her each week for groceries as well as the occasional list of items he needed or desired.

Usually, she was instructed to keep the money she didn't spend and it became her salary. Without a single word of agreement or a contract between them, she was being his servant to the man who never once showed his face. Their relationship was a genial one with the mutual understanding that she could leave whenever she desired.

Not that she ever did.

A good thing had finally come the way of the orphan woman and she was content. Three square meals a day, room and board, and lack of want were all blessing to Candela and though at times she missed the company of others, she had found a way to handle it. Usually on her "town day" she would spend the whole afternoon in the city, enjoying the company of other human beings. With some of her extra earnings she had bought herself a nice dress so, whenever she did emerge from the depths, there was an aura of respect spread around her. The regularity of her visits soon caused the old shop owners, most old enough to be her grandfather, to extend a certain affection towards her, sometimes slipping a little extra into her order and not charging.

Her little tale of woe charmed their hearts as she claimed to be the child bride of an older gentleman who never set foot past his stoop and was rather surly tempered. They all commiserated with her and were happy to make her life easy where they could, a favor she returned by bringing little things for their wives or grandchildren. Sometimes, all she had to offer was a smile.

Yes, Candela de la Vega was happy, at last, and determined not to ruin it.

E-OC

"Christine, perhaps you should get out a bit, for some fresh air? This staying cooped up isn't healthy." Raoul said as he lightly squeezed his wife's shoulders, feeling the bones beneath the skin. His wife was wasting away. At last, several weeks previous, they had been married but she still refused to leave Paris, terrified she might break her promise to the monster. Yet, no message had yet to come through the paper and it had been several months since their last encounter.

She was deathly white from lack of sunshine, preferring to stay indoors and not wishing to be seen by anyone. Her blue eyes were haunted and empty. Her blond hair was dull and had long lost its luster. Their marriage had been consummated but no more. He couldn't risk giving her a child while she was in this weakened state. It would kill her.

Even before their wedding day, he had ceased to hate the Phantom. In truth, he had come to understand, to a small degree, the pain the ghost must have gone through. His cry for a living bride often passed through Raoul's own lips as he gazed at his corpse bride. She was nothing more than a shell. Nightmares haunted her every sleeping moment and memories her every waking.

"Please, Little Lotte, you must have some fresh air. It will be winter soon and you won't be able to go out." He tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear and lightly kissed her cheek. The girl barely acknowledged him. "I am going to send for the carriage. We shall drive to a nice park and you shall have some exercise. Something to refresh you." He lightly kissed her lips and departed, calling for a servant to send for the carriage.

It was time his wife stopped this fearful seclusion.

E-OC

Candela switched her basket from one arm to another and then fanned herself with a silk fan before taking a seat on a park bench. While winter was drawing near, it was still warm in her dress and there was no hansom to be found in the area surrounding her.

As she closed her eyes to catch her breath and take a short rest, a voice called out to her and, from underneath her hat, she saw a pair approaching her. the voice which had called her name was familiar and, rising, she saw the Comte de Chagny and his new bride walking towards her. The Comte looked older than his twenty-one years and the pale girl beside him far more frail than she should have.

It seemed neither of them had faired any better since her departure.

"Comte and Comtesse de Chagny." Candela dropped a brief curtsy, bobbing her head in respect for her superiors. No matter how nice her dress was or the act she put on for everyone else, the Comte knew she was nothing more than a maid.

"Candela! Fancy meeting you here." It surprised her that he even remembered her face, let alone her name. Several months had passed since he let her go and he had his wife to fret over.

"Fancy that. Are you and your lady well?" She inquired, politely, though Raoul saw through her façade. The Spaniard was not so daft as to not see how unwell the pair of them were. His surprise was in the manner of dress and bearing of his former maid. Her shoulders were straight and her gown elegant, fitting of a middle to upper class woman. Not a mere servant girl. Something had happened to her in the past few months to change her.

"Well enough." He answered, giving the expected reply and turning to Christine only to see her as listless as ever. "How have you been?" He discretely gestured to her change of dress, and it passed through his mind, her change of future might not have been for the best.

"I was fortunate that I soon found another position after leaving your employ. I am now the sole servant for an eccentric elderly gentleman. His house is small and his needs few but he pays very well." From the looks the Comte was giving her, Candela knew he believed her to be someone's mistress or private lady. By using the term elderly, she effectively put notion to rest. The Phantom was hardly elderly, but there was no need for them to know she wasn't being completely truthful.

"I'm pleased to hear you've found a position." Raoul said as he once more glanced at his bride, noticing she was wearing out quickly and it was time to be heading home. "Have a good day, Candela." He said before turning around and leaving the Spaniard alone, watching their silhouettes moving away.

"How does he still have such a hold over her feeble mind?" Candela asked herself before picking up her basket and turning her way homeward. The fate of the new Comtesse de Chagny was not her concern.

E-OC

"Master, should we not have heard from Master Erik by now?" Darius asked as he stood beside his master's chair in his study. "It's been three months. Didn't he say it would be soon?" The Persian servant had been loyal to his master since he was quite young and never once had his loyalty wavered. But, there was a certain affinity both he and his master felt towards the strange, masked gentleman.

"Erik is an unpredictable man. Maybe he didn't die as he claimed he was going to." Nadir half-heartedly sorted through the few articles of correspondence he received. It had been on his mind lately. At times he wondered if he should just go down there and check on his friend. If he was dead, the least they could do was bury him. If he was alive, well, he would simply have to run the risks that went along with meeting Erik.

"Would it be right to see if he is alive or dead?" His servant asked and Nadir nodded slowly.

"It would be right. And, I believe I'll go now. There is still enough time before dark sets in completely. I may be late for supper though." The older Persian stood up and reached for his suede jacket, slipping it on with the help of Darius.

"Be careful, Master. Would you like me accompany you?"

"No, that won't be necessary. If I'm not back by midnight, come after me." Nadir gave his servant a tight smile and walked out of the small apartment they shared. The streets weren't heavily populated in his modest part of the city. No one really noticed the odd Persian gentleman strolling down the streets, his eyes set on the Opera House some distance in front of him.

E-OC

"Let's see, beef, bacon, red wine..." She trailed off as she looked over the recipe for Bœuf bourguignon, a common French dish she had learned while living as a kitchen maid at the de Chagny mansion. Singing softly to herself, she began to gather the needed ingredients, listening to the music once more flowing from the locked bedroom.

Just before she turned on the oven, her ears caught the sound of someone opening the door into the parlor. Heart leaping into her throat, she turned away from the stove and grabbed a heavy butcher knife, making her way through the dining room and to the doorway. Peaking around the doorframe, she gasped as she saw an older Persian gentleman, looking around the parlor. Taking a deep breath, she stepped into view, the butcher knife on the ready.

"Sir, if you would please stand perfectly still and announce your intentions." Nadir froze stiff at the sound of a woman's voice. Confused and shocked, he slowly turned, hands raised, and stared at the dark-skinned girl in the doorway, armed with a butcher knife.

"Please, Mademoiselle, I mean you harm." He managed to say without stuttering. "I am a friend of Erik's. I came to see how Erik was doing." Nadir continued, smiling gently at her.

Candela lowered the butcher knife into a more relaxed position at her side as she began to believe the older gentleman. His face was kind and unthreatening.

"I haven't spoken to the Phantom since my seventh day here." The maid replied before turning and walking back towards the kitchen, not wanting to leave her meal behind and figuring the Opera Ghost could handle the intruder on his own. To her surprise, the Persian gentleman followed her, that confused look still plastered on his face.

"Mademoiselle, forgive me, but may I inquire as to who you are and why you're here?" He took his place in the doorway and watched as the dark-haired girl worked on the evening meal.

"My name is Candela de la Vega and I am the maid, housekeeper, and cook." She said, turning to face him, a pleasant smile covering her face. Friend or foe, she liked the man's manners and he seemed quite polite, much more than his friend. "I have been for the past several months since I stumbled upon the Rue Scribe entrance."

The more she told, the more puzzled the Persian became. To his eyes, she seemed happy and content five cellars under the earth, had been for several months, with an unsociable ex-assassin. Perhaps she is as mad as Erik? With that thought, Nadir wondered if it was truly safe for him down here, visiting a man who surely hated him for his betrayal and a girl who despite her obvious sweetness wasn't all right in the head.

"I...I will go speak with Erik now."