All Hallows Eve

Chapter 1: In Which A Story Is Told

Disclaimer: I don't own these characters...I just like to play pretend with them.

"Mama," a young girl with blonde hair and green eyes tugged at Meg's skirt. "Mama, tell me a scary story."

Meg looked down at her daughter and smiled, leaning forward she scooped the child within her arms and leant back into her rocking chair. "A scary story Nicole? Why would you want a scary story? Wouldn't you like a happy one about princesses?"

"No!" Nicole protested loudly as she squirmed in her mother's arms, earning a stern look from Meg which made her stop immediately. "I want a scary story mama, because it's Halloween!"

Meg frowned, "Who told you it was Halloween?"

"Father did." Nicole grinned, showing off the gap where her two front teeth had been. "He said if I asked nicely you would tell me a scary story."

Rubbing at her temples Meg sighed, "Your father. Well," Meg looked at her daughter expectantly, "try asking me nicely."

Scrunching up her face in concentration Nicole grabbed her mother by the hand, "Please mama, oh please, won't you tell me a scary story?"

Smiling Meg began to rock the chair back and forth, "Of course my darling. You remember the phantom of the opera don't you?"

When Nicole nodded enthusiastically Meg sighed, "Good. Then I shall tell you how I first met the phantom."

Nicole gasped, "You met the phantom mama?!"

"Yes, I did."

"What was he like? Was he tall? What was he wearing? What did you do?!" The girl almost bounced off of her mother's lap in excitement.

"Calm down, calm down." Meg smiled. "You'll find out soon enough."

"I had just turned sixteen and was going to my first ball." Meg begun, "I was so very excited because your grandmother had finally deemed me old enough to go to the Halloween Masquerade held at the Opera House each year."

"And that's where you met the phantom?" Nicole blurted out, but quickly covered her mouth with both hands when Meg lifted a finger to her lips and nodded.

"I had the most beautiful costume on..." As Meg began to recite the story she knew by heart the surroundings began to change until she was once again a sixteen year old girl, heart hammering out of her chest as she stood at the entrance to the grand foyer.

Her mother had not been too happy to let her daughter go to a Masquerade and had been downright furious to let her go to a Halloween masked ball, but Meg had pleaded with her, and by sheer will power and a smattering of tears her mother had agreed. But her trials were not over yet; the costume had taken Meg two months to save up enough money to buy the fabric and an additional month to sew it. The simple Grecian sheath dress that hung loosely off of her body was simple yet eloquent. Each drape of the fabric had been carefully sewn to lie perfectly straight and in a pattern reminiscent of the Greek statues Meg had once seen when she was a child. Her shoes and mask were second hand items she had found in the costume area of the theater, no longer wanted or needed Meg had painstakingly sewn wax flowers into both mask and slipper. The finished result was an ivory gown that billowed from her small frame, slippers covered in spring flowers and a mask ornate enough to grace the face of Aphrodite herself.

Casting a glance around her Meg noticed that half of the guests masks were on, and half were off. Feeling self conscious about the looks she was beginning to attract from the male patrons of the theater she quickly pushed her mask down, over her face. Glad that it hid almost every aspect except for her lips and chin. Licking her lips nervously she glanced around again desperately searching for a friendly face. Christine had been adamant about accompanying Meg to the ball but Meg's mother was determined to keep Christine away since she had only turned fifteen but a few months before.

Instead of regretting the loss of her friend Meg tossed her hair over her shoulder and walked, head held high to the refreshment table where she took a glass of champagne and quickly downed half of it. Smile plastered on her lips Meg placed a hand to her head, suddenly woozy. She had only had champagne once before and that had only been a few sips given to her by her mother on her last birthday. This champagne was far stronger and left a queer aftertaste in her mouth. Rolling her tongue over her teeth Meg frowned, and picked up a small napkin piling it high with tiny cheese pastries determined to get the taste of sour grapes out of her mouth.

She had bit into her third cheese puff when a young man accidentally brushed into her. He seemed a bit frazzled, swaying to and fro, pushing his blonde hair out of his eyes. He held onto the table and glanced up at Meg.

"Hello sweetheart," he slurred, as his eyes slowly traced the curve of her cheek down to her flower slippers and back up again. "May I ask where your escort is?"

Meg grimaced, his eyes had stayed far too long on certain parts of her body and he reeked of the whiskey that Joseph Bouquet carried around on his body. "No," she shook her head, "you may not ask where my escort is."

She was just about to turn around when the man grabbed her by the arm.

"Hold on sweetheart." He slurred again, pushing himself off of the table and looming over her. "I asked you a question." He tightened his grip on her arm until she could feel her arm beginning to bruise. "Be a good little girl and answer."

"Let me go." Meg ground out, her eyes flashing in anger, "You're hurting my arm."

"Feisty one eh?" the man rasped, his face looming dangerously close to hers, so close she could feel his breath hot on her face. "Let's just go somewhere quiet. Just you," he pulled her close, "and me."

"No!" Meg cried out, twisting her arm as the man began to drag her away to the shadowy corners of the room. "Let me go!"

"No one can hear you." He hissed, his grip tightening on her arm. "Stop putting up a fight. We'll have fun you and me."

"Help!" She screamed turning her face away from the man as she pushed against his chest, "Please someone help me!"

"What did I jus-" the man was cut off and a resounding crack filled the air. Meg felt her arm suddenly fling free of the man's grasp and watched as she clutched at his nose which had begun to squirt a profuse amount of blood.

"The lady, told you no." A dark voice rumbled from beside her, and Meg quickly turned her attention to the figure cloaked all in black beside her. He adjusted the full black mask that covered his face and tossed his cape over his shoulder. "Is that understood?"

The man, still clutching his nose nodded and backed away slowly keeping his eyes locked on the mysterious figure until he was a safe enough distance away to turn around and run.

Meg slowly began to rub her arm, which already showed some markings of a bruise. "Th-th" she stammered, "thank you."

The figure, the man, turned to her and bowed, "You do not need to thank me. I could not idly stand by and watch a wretch like that," he nodded his head in the direction the man had run off too, "take advantage of a girl such as yourself."

"Oh...yes." Meg whispered, a blush creeping up her neck as she realized the eyes that stared at her from beneath the mask flashed between honey brown and golden. Shaking her head Meg reached out her hand. "I'm Marguerite Giry. But my friends call me Meg." She grinned up at the man and extended her hand a bit closer.

He looked at it, shifted his weight from one foot to the other before finally grasping it within his own. "It is a pleasure Margui-" he broke off when Meg arched an eyebrow, "Meg."

They stood like that, for a few seconds, both holding each other's hand as Meg waited for the man to introduce himself, he seemed to be lost in another world and jolted a bit when she squeezed his hand and laughed. "And just who is my mysterious stranger?"

"E-Erik." He stammered, instantly letting go of her hand, "Just...Erik."

She smiled up at him, "Well, just Erik. Would you do me the honor of a dance?"

"I-I" he stammered again, as he clenched and unclenched his hands, "I don't know if that's such a good idea."

"Nonsense!" Meg grinned, "If you're not a good dancer that's ok, I probably won't be either." She looked around her then leaned in to whisper, "It's my first ball you see and while I can dance alone I've never done it with a man...before..." she trailed off realizing what she had said was most unladylike and a streak of crimson shot up her face.

Erik laughed, and Meg blushed harder, she had never heard such a musical laugh before. "You should laugh more." She blurted out before clasping her hands over her traitor mouth in shock, her blush intensifying once again. She watched as Erik nodded, the almost golden eyes behind his mask dancing in mirth.

"Since you're so insistent," he held out his arm, "may I have this dance?

Grinning Meg accepted his arm and they walked out onto the floor to await the next song. When the band started up again Erik let out a groan.

"What's wrong?" Meg asked, worry creasing her forehead.

"I just," Erik shrugged, "I'm not very good at the waltz."

She giggled and stood across from Erik, "Put your hand here." She guided his hand to her waist, "And hold my hand like this. Feet together like this and just a simple one-two-three..."

"L-like this?" he asked his head down, concentrating on their feet.

"Almost," Meg whispered, "move your foot forward a bit more and, shift to the le- Ouch!" Meg gasped as Erik's foot came down hard on her own.

"Oh no!" He cried out, quickly hopping back away from Meg, "Oh no, I'm so sorry, are you ok?"

Gingerly stepping on her foot Meg nodded, "I'm fine." She looked down at her slipper the wax flowers had broken and missing petals, "Slipper has seen better days but my foot should be fine." She looked up at him and began to step back towards him when she stepped on her foot wrong and winced.

"You're lying." He accused, instantly by her side, "Your foot is not ok."

"Oh hush Erik!" Meg batted him away, "I'm a ballerina, and our feet always have something wrong with them."

"I will not," Erik moved closer and in one swift movement had picked Meg up off of her feet and was suddenly carrying her bridal style to a quiet corner with a few fainting couches. "Have you walking around on a bad foot no matter what your profession is."

Meg flushed a deep shade of crimson, and hesitantly threw her arms around his neck, "You can put me down Erik. I can walk!"

"No," Erik replied, "you're not setting foot on that dance floor or any floor for that matter until your foot is healed."

"But!" She protested, "That could take hours!" She gasped, "I could be sitting out the whole ball!"

They had reached the couches and Erik set her down one, taking a moment to prop a pillow underneath her ankle before pulled a chair over and sat down in it. "That's exactly what I intend to have you do."

"No!" Meg slammed her hands down onto the couch, "I will not let you do this to me!" She began to get up before Erik gently pushed her back down again. "You don't understand." Meg pouted, "This is my first ball."

"And a bad one at that." Erik mumbled, "Getting assaulted then getting stepped on!"

Meg just leant back into the pillows and smiled, "I think it's been fantastic."

Erik's head whipped back towards her, "What?!"

"I said," Meg leaned forward grinning into Erik's eyes, "I think it's been a fantastic night."

"You're crazy." Erik mumbled.

Rolling her eyes Meg waved a hand, "I haven't had such a fun night since…since…never." She looked at him, "Thank you."

He shook his head, "You were almost," he swallowed, "taken advantage of and you still had a fun night?"

"Yes," Meg whispered, suddenly focusing on her nails so her hair would obscure her face, "I met you didn't I?"

Erik was reaching his hand out, in preparation to hook a bit of her hair back behind her ear so he could see her blush one more time when a shrill, "Marguerite Giry!" cut through the air. He dropped his hand quickly to his side as Meg sat up, her eyes widening in fear, "Mother!"

"I, I, I have to go!" Erik stammered, clutching the edges of his cape in his hands, "I'm sorry Meg I-"

"Of course you have to go!" Meg hissed, "Mother will kill us both if she finds us!" She looked up at Erik as tears began to well in her eyes. "I wish I could see you again."

He froze, his eyes locked in on hers and he swallowed nervously, "You want to see me again?"

"Yes." Meg nodded enthusiastically, casting a hurried glance to where she heard yet another shrill calling of her name.

"The next ball," Erik rushed out, "I'll dance with you then." He gave her one last look before turning away.

Smiling Meg called out to his retreating form, "You better practice your waltz!" Just as her mother cried, "There you are Marguerite! What…why are you lying down?!"

*Line Break*

"Well Mama," Nicole tugged at her mother's hand, "did you meet the phantom after he saved you from that evil villain who was going to steal all of your cheese puffs?"

Meg shook her head to clear it, "Villian who was going to steal all of my cheese puffs?"

"That's what you said mama! You said there was an evil man who came up and ate all the cheese puffs and he had his sights on yours, but suddenly the phantom showed up and scared him away! So you could keep your cheese puffs."

"Oh, yes." Meg nodded, "Very important for a girl to protect her cheese puffs."

"Yes, but did you meet the phantom again?" Nicole asked, snuggling closer to her mother, "Did you dance again?"

"Oh," Meg smiled, "Yes, I did meet the phantom again. One last time."

A/N: This story is a stand alone piece, not associated with my other Meg/Erik stories. I wanted to write a story for Halloween, and this is what happened. I'm not too sure what I think of it, but I wanted to make something light and fluffy. The final part will be put up either later tonight or by tomorrow.