It was after Christine had left him when Erik turned to even more artistic pursuits than before. Photography was simply a new game he now played. Music was there, of course, it is always there. It just, wasn't the same. Don Juan had died up above on stage and died just the same in the place of its creation. After months of silence and the assumed death of The Phantom, Meg was shocked to find a black edged letter sitting on the table of the dressing room Christine once occupied.
She had taken the room over a little selfishly, she did deserve it after all her years of hard work, and no one else would use it because of the reputation of all of the sinister events that have taken place there. Meg figured out how to open the door to the mirror months ago, but didn't think it right for her to go traipsing into his home. If he was there she'd be dead before she could even think to defend herself, if he wasn't, it would feel like a hollow tomb.
Meg wasted no time opening the red-wax seal, she had to read the letter over and over before she could even process the request. Which included her presence, in his home, he would meet her at the mirror late into the night. She was to wear her best day dress, bring her best evening dress, and her best rehearsal dress and pointe shoes. No reason was given, no ultimatum, simply a request. With his track-record she would do as he said without a fight.
Many hours later Meg waited in her best day dress, as requested. She messed with her hair for a while. Knowing that if she kept messing with the style, each one would be worse than the one before. She started over and swept her hair into the style she loved most with the top section tied up into a ribbon. Meg had set her hair in curls the other night for a show so her already wavy was even more textured than usual.
She didn't know what to do, why was she dressing up for him? Why did she bring the extra clothes he requested? Why was she there at all? She should go to her bed and stay there, but… there was something holding her there. Curiosity? Perhaps.
Meg felt the air around her shift, like she was being watched, and she knew for sure she wasn't alone. Looking immediately to the mirror door she saw the outline of a figure she had seen months ago on the stage. Tall and so very human, a mask just like the one she brought home with her rested on the deformity she only saw a glimpse of months ago. She stood from the stool and tried to hold herself as tall as possible.
Why did you request to see me? That's what she wanted to say, but the words never left her lips. Meg immediately cursed herself, he was already so captivating. She would do whatever he said, with hesitation, but something about him already made her make excuses for any action.
"I wish to photograph you." Erik spoke into the room, directly at her, almost as though she had asked the question. Perhaps she did find the words, why didn't she noticed she actually said them? Was he really magic? Or was she as predictable as any ballet girl.
He spoke so freely and openly to her, Meg had to shake herself out of her little trance to comprehend his statement. She was of course taken aback. Photography, not necessarily a new innovation, but one it was an exciting event to be photographed. A keepsake that in turn showed wealth, or celebrity status. Meg had been photographed before for a wealthy woman wanting to capture the talent of the opera. She was one of the most important patrons, so whatever they could do for the woman, they did. So at her tender young age she posed with her friends in the corps in their ballet costumes of the season.
"Why me?" Meg surprisingly didn't stutter with her words. She stood next to the clothes he asked her to bring, and picked them up to rested them in her arms close to her body.
"Come with me." His voice stated simply that he was in no mood for games, simply business.
"Alright, Monsieur." She replied, whispering the title. Meg knew his name. Erik. She had known his name for a while, her mother had let it slip in her rage. Madame Giry paced after Christine fled for good, and after all of the damage he had done to the opera, She cursed him and his name, then cried for pain he must be feeling, wherever he was.
The answer to her question was that he has yet to photograph a ballet dancer by profession. He had posed many subjects, any performer or prostitute as far away from the opera as possible who did exactly as he paid them to do. Photography became a quick obsession of his, and now he needed a ballet dancer to fill the biggest void in his portfolio. He avoided the subject with caution.
Erik could have gotten a dancer far from the opera, there were many who would gladly do the job, but something nagged him to bring Meg to the depths of the opera. So he did, Erik led her down through the dark halls, and especially down the halls that were dry to protect her clearly well kept dress.
Soon Erik led her into the house by the lake, every piece in the home that Meg had seen destroyed months before had either been repaired or replaced. Not much time had passed when they reached the home, he had everything set up waiting for their arrival.
Meg was directed to a set like the one she'd seen years before. Instead of being in a room filled with windows and light, she was surrounded by big kerosene lamps and candles to provide as much light as possible. She wore just as he had told her, her best day dress.
She picked her favorite, a dress made of tan silk and green velvet. The green velvet made the foundation of the long sleeved bodice with a high collar. A decorated embroidered ribbon wrapped around the high collar and came across on a diagonal down the bodice until it disappeared under tan silk draped over each shoulder creating a deep V on the front and the back of the dress. The draped silk stopped over her elbow to allow the green velvet reach her wrist trimmed with the same ribbon. The same tan silk made the under skirt, to finish the ensemble, a green velvet belt covered in the ribbon sat above tan skirt and the fabric draping the bodice. To give the illusion of a dress instead of two separate pieces, more solid green velvet hung from the thick belt to created an over skirt.
She kept her long hair behind her back and held her head high as she sat on a stone bench surrounded by a large backdrop in a wood carved frame and large potted plants.
Now that she was alone with him in front of the large box on three legs. Meg, a usually confident girl, did feel incredibly odd posing for him. She did as he directed with little hesitation. With each photo she eased into the idea of being immortalized so many times. They took many photos, in many different poses until he ordered her to change to the evening gown.
He led her to a private place to change. Thanking him Meg shed her clothes and switched the bustle cage to another one suitable for her even grander evening gown. Every ballet girl had a grand evening dress to entertain patrons with. It was convenient timing that she recently received the dress she commissioned, she actually hadn't had a chance to show the new dress off until now.
She quietly stepped back into the room to find the backdrop was already changed to a painted image of a grand wall and marble columns, and the stone bench was changed to tall backed engraved chair. Meg wore an almost completely different style of dress with a low neckline and low shoulders, covered in an abundance lace and draped in pink silk. Of course the green ribbon was changed to a pink one to match the gown.
"Ah yes, you look lovely." He told her after he looked up from meticulously shifting the chair by little bits back and forth, she was slightly glued to her spot by a loveseat, and blushed at the quick compliment. "Come, sit!" He motioned for her to rest on the chair. Erik was becoming more comfortable with his subject and grew more and more excited with every passing moment pouring himself into his art.
"I cannot be the first to sit for you." His equipment and sets were just as lovely as the professional sets she had seen many years before. "Who else have you stolen the image of?" She gave him a soft smile as she grew from her shell to ask him a list of questions.
"You speak as though I am stealing your youth."
"Aren't you?" A flit of a giggle followed "For personal gain. For... art."
"That…" He trailed on after the word distracted as he prepped the slide. "Is certainly a perplexing way to describe photography." Erik then threw himself into his work again. Bustling and meticulously adjusting anything that didn't give the illusion of complete perfection.
"You never answered my question." She piped up awkwardly from her spot. Meg noticed that whenever he would refocus himself and turn cold, she would become uneasy once again. She watched his critical eyes move over every part of the set, the camera, and her body. The bewildering thing about his focus was that Meg began to adore watching him lose himself in his work.
"Who else have I stolen the image of?" She nodded her head in response, he watched her head shake and paused before not answering her for a few more moments while he messed with the camera. "Many people like you." Another pause followed. "Performers... Dancers." He added the last two words without much thought as he worked.
"Why did you need me then? You could have found a dancer easily." Many corps de ballet members moved on to little clubs or more scandalous pursuits when their professional ballet career was done for. He was about to take the the first picture in the new ensemble when he noticed her dresses short and low shouldered sleeve was twisted. Without a word he approached her and fixed it. His cold skin bumped her warm pink skin like little bits of snow on a barely cold enough day to snow.
"I wanted the best." Meg's eyes darted up to look at his face as he lifted her with his cold fingers. Her eyes widened and her mouth opened just enough for him to notice. "Don't look so surprised." She used her acting background to quickly cover her shock. Meg soon grew restless within her own thoughts and stood when he was done with the first portrait, and walked around the chair and held the tall pillars on either side in her hands.
"The best?" She trailed off. "Of what?" She tried to cover what was practically begging for clarity, and of course more compliments from the infamous Opera Ghost, with a joyous voice.
"Out of every ballet dancer I have seen, you are the shining star." The cool tone he used almost drove her mad. "Your dancing is most memorable. You must know that." He found her pose and slightly confused face perfect for the next shot.
"Stay there. Do not move." He took the picture as fast as he could. After a few variations of the standing picture she moved to the side of the chair and sat on the padded arm. She looked toward the pipe organ in the distance, the view of her face was tilted to the side. Meg eventually spoke into the awkwardness only she seemed to feel.
"What do you do with the pictures you take?" She really did wonder, were they for a personal collection?
"I sell the best slides to artists." Meg ruined the high quality of the next slide by moving her head to face him as he took the picture.
"You do?" It was common for artists to take these pictures and use them for reference for their paintings. Some photos became postcards and cabinet cards.
"Don't worry I will let you approve them before I sell any prints." He told her to change swiftly, Meg of course did so as quickly as she could. He started to play the violin as she went to change. Immediately she started to calm. She was nervous for the outcome of his portraits. Meg didn't want to ruin them with her own appearance.
Meg tied her shoes, the choker she usually wore for class, and the black ribbon matching the choker around her waist with perfect care. She smoothed her skirts before returning to him with a new outlook. She no longer felt odd under his artistic guise and the box ready to take her likeness forever. When she came out he told her to be ready to stand on her toes for a long period of time.
As she held onto the back of a loveseat she stretched her toes, he changed the background and the chair was replaced with a pillar of marble. He placed a vase of roses and baby's breath then beckoned her to pose for him once again.
"What are your best selling pictures?" She stood on pointe, prepared to hold her pose for a long time. Meg crossed her wrists over her chest, her fingers delicately displayed, just as he directed. Her legs were crossed at the ankle, and she looked past the camera to the wall just left of him with a small smile. He didn't answer her until he was done taking the first picture. She was curious, but waited patiently for him to give her an answer.
His reply had reverted back to the short and simple answers he gave her just after they had met hours ago.
"Ones from studies like you. In costume and rehearsals dress."
"So my pictures will sell well then?" Meg asked with a positive and greatly curious tone in her voice.
"Not as well as my others, but yes?"
"Why not?" Meg whined like the little ballet girl she truly was.
"My dear, I sell to freelance artists and postcard publishers. I take a large array of pictures, a certain nature sells more than others." Erik coughed after the last bit. Meg knew the real reason why Erik wouldn't answer her, she had seen the types of pictures he was speaking of. He was avoiding a somewhat crude subject for the daughter of someone who was his savior many years ago. Meg couldn't help but laugh.
"What, if I may ask, is the nature of these profitable photographs?" Meg finished her question in a mocking voice. Of course she was taunting Erik, she just wanted him to say it. He posed her first before answering, Erik now had his turn to be uncomfortable, under her own unforgiving lens.
Ballet girls could tease, and they were quite ruthless. It could be seen as a bad habit by Madame Giry, or anyone who wasn't a ballet brat, but none of the said-brats cared. Especially the not-so-little Little Giry anymore. The more comfortable she became the more she'd play and taunt. It was a sign of love and alliance amongst the ranks of the underpaid pretty girls in fluffy tutus. Erik gave her glare as he moved her like a doll into the next pose.
"Women, in various manners of undress." Erik then let her go quickly, as if her skin had burnt him. She smiled to his back as he walked away from her, for some reason his answer pleased her. It shouldn't have, any respectable woman would have gave the offender a good smack and stormed from the premise, but of course, a ballet dancer wasn't exactly a respectable profession. Meg dropped the grin and cleared her throat as he turned to her when he stepped behind the camera.
"Don't worry, my dear, I won't ask you to do such a thing." She couldn't help but think about what a shame it was that he didn't intend to ask her. After many more pictures in her rehearsal costume and several hours after he lead her to the house by the lake, a very tired model and exhilarated artist finished their session.
When they were done, Meg followed close to him and tried to make small conversation with little triumph as they ascended higher into the opera. They finally reached the mirror door, and Meg saw the little lamp burning dimly on her dressing table through the mirror. He opened the switch to the door and held up his hand to escort her over the frame of the mirror.
"I trust you will forget how to reach the house by the lake." He spoke in a voice that clearly was meant to intimidate her. Meg shrunk into herself like the ballet girl she truly was.
"Already forgotten." Meg crossed her fingers over her heart. "I won't visit your home without being invited." She laid the pile of clothes in her arms on the fainting couch in the center of the room while looking straight into his eyes. Meg didn't want to look away. After an uncomfortable cough and a nod he bid her farewell. As he stepped over the frame Meg called to him.
"Erik?" She hadn't called him by name yet, the look on his face was exactly as she wanted it to be. "You don't have to go outside of the opera for subjects again." She paused for a few moments watching the uncovered side of his face grow even more confused waiting for her to elaborate.
"I will be your study. Any costume you wish, just leave a little request like you've done today."
"Thank you for your offer, and your time."
"My pleasure." In a final attempt to escape Erik stepped quickly over the threshold, gave her another nod and sealed the door.