Teardrops by Ceara Ivory
Summary: Meg Giry is forced to watch as Erik seeks love in all the wrong places, and manages to reach his inner sanctum just before he can leave. Can she reach the Phantom and be the one to save him from his solitude. Inspired by Taylor Swift's "Teardrops on My Guitar".
"Did I not instruct that Box Five was to be kept empty?"
Meg Giry, daughter of Madame Giry, watched with bated breath as the Phantom made himself known to them all. She knew the real reason he was angry. He had demanded that Christine Daee, her best friend, play the Countess and Carlotta had gotten the part instead. His demands had all been ignored, that is why he was upset.
"He's here, the Phantom of the Opera," she whispered just loudly enough for Christine to hear. Her eyes focused towards where his voice had echoed from, trying without success to keep from being delighted at this.
"It's him." Christine whispered back, although not to anyone in particular.
Carlotta whirled on Christine, "Your part is silent, little toad!" She turned back to her adoring fans, grinning sheepishly.
"A toad Madame? Perhaps it is you who are the toad."
Oh how things had taken an interesting turn then. Somehow, Carlotta suddenly began croaking like a frog and rushed from the stage, sobbing in her embarrassment. Firmin and Andre had announced that Christine would be taking her place. But apparently, to Meg, the Phantom was not appeased.
Moments later, when, during their performance of the ballet from Act Three of Il Muto, Joseph Buquet had fallen from the rafters, hung by a rope and very much dead, everyone screamed. Meg screamed, but honestly, only because everyone else had.
She knew she should be frightened that such an event could occur, and appalled at the man who had obviously done it, but could not bring herself to feel either way. Instead she felt an overwhelming sense of awe overcome her, the same that she felt every time she heard another rumor about him, or when another "accident" would happen to the Opera Populaire. She wasn't stupid. She knew everything he did lately had to be for Christine, out of some love for her. And then for some reason, she would feel jealousy towards her best friend.
That same chilling feeling of awe and admiration was fanned into a flame on New Year's Eve.
He stood before them, finally in full sight, in a handsome red, a mask adorning his face. Black hair slicked back, a cape resting on one arm. He was the perfect picture of a man.
While everyone stared in fear at the man who had terrorized them for the longest time, Meg's eyes stared in wonder and curiosity. She thought it wasn't fair. It was clear how he felt from Christine, and yet Christine, although understandably, could only look upon her Angel of Music as a surrogate father if not the ghost of her own long dead father. Why, why couldn't he see that? Why did he continue to pursue a woman who did not love him in the way that he wished?
She didn't know when it happened? Maybe it was that very night at Il Muto, or at the Masquerade. But as she listened to the Phantom declare his love for Christine in the not-so-cryptic song, the song that all the fools in the audience thought was simply a part of the opera, she felt a terrible desire to cry out a warning to him. And although she managed to curb her desire, she realized that somewhere along that timeframe, she'd fallen in love with him. And she realized why she felt so much compassion for him.
They were so similar. She herself held a love that she knew could never be returned, because the one she loved already loved another. Oh if she could only tell him, if only she could take away the pain he was feeling. He was begging Christine to save him from his solitude, if only he could know that she, Meg, would pull him from his solitude in a minute.
If only she had been quicker to do so. If only she had made it to his inner sanctum before he could disappear, again. The only evidence that he had been in that room, besides the organ and candles, the only evidence that Meg cared about, was a white mask. A mask that he left behind for some reason. He had left. She had been too late. She had lost her chance, and he had given up his.
"Meg," she heard her mother say as she held onto the mask. "Come, we must find Christine and the Vicomte."
Meg shook her head. "I'm gonna stay here for a few more minutes. I'll catch up later, Mama."
Somehow knowing her daughter would be safe, Madame Giry left Meg to herself.
As soon as she was alone, Meg let her forlorn tears fall, clutching that precious white mask to her. Why, why hadn't she been quicker? Why hadn't she listened to her heart just hours ago? Why had she waited so long to figure out how she felt? She shook with her pain, teardrops staining the mask in her hands.
AN: Okay, this is planned as a one shot for now. Let me know if I should continue it. Should Erik finally get a happy ending?