TIME
It took 1 second for Meg to decide to lead the mob away from the Phantom.
"He's not here, but his boat is gone!"
At Meg's shout, the mob crashed into the water, wading farther out. Meg waited until their lights were small specks in the distance before going toward the mirrors. Her sharp eyes had caught sight of the broken mirrors and she had been sure that there must have been an exit hidden among the littered glass. The Phantom was many things, including resourceful.
She hoped that the mob would be sufficiently occupied on their wild goose chase to not notice her absence. She was tempted to at least call one of the men from the search but she knew if she did, she would never get answers. These men were out for blood, they would kill the Opera Ghost the moment they caught sight of him. And Meg did not want that. She wanted an explanation from him...to know why he had done this.
Clutching the white porcelain mask to her chest, she strode forward, walking among the shards of glass. Her footsteps crunched as she inspected each nook and corner. She yelped as she stumbled forward when she pushed against a curtain covering one of the mirrors. She carefully stepped further into the cove, blinking at the sudden darkness as the curtain fell into place behind her. Stumbling a bit in the dark, she pushed forward, intent on finding the Phantom.
She knew she was disobeying her mother's direct orders but she was just too curious for her own good. She had always been curious about the mysterious opera ghost that had been a constant presence in her life but her mother had always discouraged her on broaching the subject.
But now there was no dissuading her. While her mother had been busy evacuating everyone out, Meg had slipped off toward Christine's dressing room, squeezing through the narrow passageway. Ever since the masquerade, when she had seen that the Phantom was no ghost at all but a real life human being, and a mysteriously handsome one at that, her curiosity had grown and she was determined to quench it. Her curiosity mingled with the anger and resentment she felt towards her once respected hero for burning down her home and endangering innocent lives. She also worried for Christine and Raoul. She hoped that the Viscount had found her friend and that they were safe.
Her fear threatened to overwhelm her, but she smothered it and pushed her way further into the dark and damp hallway. She kept one hand on the wall, the other held the mask to her chest, walking slowly so as not to stumble on anything. Unfortunately she ended up tripping anyway, on something quite large.
"Ow," she rubbed her skinned hands, wincing at the dull pain. She rubbed them together for a minute before reaching forward, wishing she had brought a torch with her. The darkness was all encompassing and she could hardly see in front of her. Her wayward fingers met resistance and she let out a shaky breath. Whatever it was didn't seem to be moving. Her hands wandered, patting and feeling around. She recognized the feel of cotton, and realized she was touching not something, but someone. Her breath caught as her hands glided upwards, over what was obviously an arm. The clothing suddenly stopped and her fingers met skin that felt cold to the touch. She pushed on, after a brief hesitation, and an involuntary gasp escaped her mouth as her fingers skimmed over ruts and grooves. She knew they were scars...She had found the Phantom.
Meg brought her hand to her chest, her heart beating loudly in her chest. She wondered how long he'd been lying here. She knew now, without a shadow of a doubt, that Christine was safe with the Viscount. She sat back, relief making her woozy. Something dug into her thigh, and she pulled it out, having forgotten she'd picked up the Phantom's mask. She fingered the cool porcelain, contemplating what to do.
Her lips set into a firm line, a determined light shining in her brown eyes. She tucked the white mask safely into her trousers, before reaching down and shaking him gently but firmly. She got no response, as she expected, and so she bent down, lifting his arm around her own shoulders. She stood with some difficulty, surprised by his weight. He was lean, but he was taller than she, more muscular, and completely unconscious. She continued down the tunnel, panting with the effort it took to carry the Phantom. Meg had no idea where she was going but she kept walking forward, hoping that this was one of the Phantom's many supposed escape routes.
After a while of walking, Meg ran into the cavern wall. She muttered a very unladylike curse that would have had her mother glaring at her, her toes throbbing at being smashed into a hard surface. She lowered the Phantom onto the floor, her muscles trembling and her breathing labored. She knew this couldn't be it...There had to have been something. The Phantom wouldn't have just fled down a dead end. He would have known that the entrance to this cave would be discovered sooner or later. She wondered if she had missed a hidden turn, or a secret exit. Sighing in frustration, she leaned back against the rough stone to catch her breath. And promptly stood back up again. There was something different about this wall. The stone didn't seem as cold. She felt over the stone and felt a grin emerging when she found a long, thin crack, running up the stone. Inserting her fingers into the wedge, she pulled on it. And almost crowed in triumph when it opened towards her. She opened the faux door all the way, admiring the intelligence of the design.
Grasping the Phantom by the shoulders, she dragged him back into the even darker space, gently setting him down, before closing the door. Satisfied with their relative safety, she stumbled around the unknown room trying to find a light. It took her a while before her wayward fingers brushed on what felt like a torch and she sighed in relief. Finding matches close by, she lit it. She hung the torch on one of the torch holders that hung in the room and bent down toward the Opera Ghost, hefting him toward a small but comfortable looking bed situated in the corner. Once that was done, she took a moment to rest before examining her patient.
His clothes were wet and he was shivering. He looked entirely too pale, and his lips had acquired a tinge of blue. 'Hypothermia,' she thought grimly, remembering a dancer last year who had contracted hypothermia when she fell into a freezing river. She guessed he must have spent some time in the water of his cave, and with the chill of the caverns, must have collapsed from the cold. She proceeded in stripping him down to his underwear, struggling to put the sight of his near naked body from her mind. Rummaging around in a chest by the bed, she found some of his clothes, along with some dresses she figured must have been for Christine.
'This must have been one of his safe houses,' she thought as she dressed him, finding it was much harder to dress a grown man than she'd thought. Finding a blanket in the chest, she started wrapping him tightly in it before she remembered something else. The dancer had thawed out much more quickly when her mother had instructed one of the other ballet girls to sit with her. Meg flushed a pretty pink, debating whether or not it was needed. She stared at him and pushed her embarrassment from her mind, climbing in beside him and tucking the blanket around her as well. He needed to warm up, and it wasn't like he was awake anyway. He need never know.
She watched over him for the next few hours as his color slowly returned and his teeth stopped chattering. She examined his face closely, running her hand over the deformed side of his face and feeling her curiosity burn brighter when he flinched at her touch. She realized the deformity wasn't that terrible…it just took some getting used to. The other side of his face was smooth, clean shaven and handsome, a sharp contrast from the misshapen other half.
Questions bounced around inside her skull, each begging to be answered. The resentment she had felt at him for burning down the only place that she had ever called home dissolved as she watched him sleep. There was a vulnerability present on his face that took away all her previous angry feelings. With both her anger and worry draining from her body, exhaustion took its place.
Meg rubbed at her eyes, struggling to stay awake. The night's events combined with the effort of carrying the unconscious Phantom weighed down her eyelids. Yawning, she snuggled closer to him, enjoying the sleepy warmth they had created, and letting sleep overtake her exhausted mind.