Chapter 1

Author's note: This story is set in the Leroux universe, after Christine left, supposing that Erik hasn't died yet. However, Meg Giry follows the Andrew Lloyd Weber movie/musical look- blonde hair, blue eyes. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: As always, Leroux created the Phantom, while ALW created the appearance of this Meg.

She looked at herself in the mirror from every angle.

Then she leaned in to inspect her face. Her lips were painted red- dark red, but strangely and vividly bright- her eyes were the same blue that they always were, but now outlined in bold black which changed them, and made them brilliant against her fair skin. Meg stepped away from the mirror and turned to see herself from the back. Her hair rippled down in loose ringlets, finally singed with curls after hours of being twined around the theater's curling iron. The curling iron wasn't the only thing she borrowed from backstage. Her blonde hair was now a dark red, a glowing auburn, courtesy of the makeup and costume room. The dye would wash out after one bath- most of the actresses used it for one night, so that they could be ready for another role the next day.

However, she did not steal the gown she wore. It was her own, though she had re-dyed the fading yellow and trimmed it with various scraps from backstage. How she had labored over the ball gown, and now it was exquisite.

The dress was a dark forest green, dotted with purple flowers that curled around the hem and waist on paler green vines. There was a subdued luster of the silver trimming that laced at her wrists and striped down her bodice in pearly gray braids. With silver-gloved fingers, Meg lifted the mask to her face. Her forehead and cheeks were covered, obscured by the silky, silver and green colored material. There was a purple feather blossoming off of the center of her forehead which was tinted blood-red at the tip, at the very edge where it swayed slightly above her head.

As she tied the ribbon to attach the mask, her critical gaze swept once more over the figure in the mirror. Meg was now unrecognizable. She sighed and realized that she was pleased- not just satisfied, but actually pleased- by the striking image who peered back at her.

Clutching a flickering oil lamp, she crept past her sleeping mother's bedroom and tiptoed by the ballet dormitories, ignoring the soft snores that escaped the room. She hurried down, illuminating the dark corridors, further and deeper below the Opera house. Meg's eyes were bright with excitement and her heart thudded in nervous anticipation, bringing a blush to her cheeks.

She was careful to avoid the traps Erik had set up as she descended into the heart of the opera house…five cellars down. Meg let herself slip into her character as she walked along the passages. She set the lamp on the bank, and it flickered uncertainly for a moment, then burned steadily. It would help guide her back. She crossed the lake in the boat which was left on her side of the lake, which Meg would have found slightly disturbing, realizing that Erik hadn't had anyone see him since Christine left. But the woman who she let take hold of her was unconcerned. That would only make her presence more appreciated- even Death must be lonely for company.

Vivienne stepped out of the boat, and strode decisively to the door of the house on the lake. Where Meg's hand would have faltered, Vivienne's hand knocked smartly on the door.

Another Author's note: This chapter is short, the next one will be short, and the third chapter is the shortest one of them all…That's just how this fic will be, sorry.

Reviews are much appreciated- they are the sunshine in my dark underground home.