(This is my first attempt at a fan fiction, so please be nice to me. I've had a LOT of previous writing experience, but nothing actually….erm…..published, if this is what you could call it.)

Humming, he walked from his stone bedchamber to his writing desk, spotted with music. He shuffled through the papers, making them into a neat pile. The flame of the lone candle on his desk flickered. "Masquerade…" he hummed. "Paper faces on parade…masquerade, hide your face so the world will never find you…"

Almost out of habit, he glanced up from an unfinished piece of music--something that drove him crazy-- to the mirror hanging over the desk on the wall. It was covered in a black velvet sheet, something Meg had done for him. She had found him cowering in a corner, frightened of the face in the mirror that wouldn't go away. This was only a few weeks ago--and yet this girl saw no fear at this face. He was nine years older than her at 22, and she only 15, yet this face terrified him, the way the candle's weak light cast eerie shadows over the swollen flesh of the face he knew to be his own.

He pulled the sheet down slowly until the fabric snapped over the top of the frame and fell onto the table. There was the face, made alarming once again. This time, instead of hiding from himself, he studied it. It was only the one side that was misshapen, really. If he turned his head to the right--he did so-- you wouldn't know that his right side was malformed. He was normal looking, and actually quite handsome. Turning his head again to fully face the mirror, he noticed what seemed to be an open wound in the pockmarked flesh. It was raised like a scar, but almost oozing. He ran his fingertips down the open flesh to find that it was not open, and that his cheek was numb. He sighed and pulled his hand away from his face to run it across the cool silver surface of the mirror.

"Erik?" A young voice spoke behind him. "What're you doing?"

He abruptly turned to face the young woman, for that was what she was becoming. He long blonde hair had been pulled back, yet the long locks could be seen from the front. He smiled at her. She smiled back, but a light blush spread along her cheeks, but she hid this by pretending to straighten her skirt. Her dress was a full skirt-- something she had begged her mother for-- black, to match her black bodice. The entire dress was trimmed in gold, and it matched her honey colored hair. In her hand was a black mask with gold ribbon trim.

"Meg, you look stunning," Erik said as he stepped forward to take both her hands in his. She looked from their hands to his eyes and nodded, at a loss of words. He continues smiling as he said, "The boys are definitely going to fall for you with just one glace. You're becoming an exquisite young woman, Meg."

Her smile faded lightly at this speech proclaiming her splendor. She was glad that he thought her beautiful, of course, for only his opinion mattered to her. But she still wished that he saw her as not only lovely, but completely and utterly dedicated to him. She was the only one who saw the man behind the monster-- not even her mother could stand to look at Erik sometimes.

"Thank you," she said sweetly. "But I'm afraid that the only boy--man-- that I care about can't see how much I love him." Erik released her hands as she turned away from him, only to glance behind at his eyes. He met her gaze and smiled again.

"Well then," Erik sighed. He turned to grab his cape and fasten his black mask on his face, hiding the malformation on his right cheek. He turned to face her once again, completely gorgeous with a brooding mouth and brown hair, and his blue-green eyes showing through the mask like windows to the talented and caring man within the grotesque shell everyone else saw. Meg was the only one to ever see into those windows. Erik paused to meet her gaze as he said, "He'll be awfully jealous to see you at the masquerade with me."

NOTE AS OF 8/23/05:
Okay, okay, I keep changing Meg's age. Shut up. My logic behind the madness is this….
Mme. Giry found Erik at 15 and he was six. She got married a few months later-- hey, it wasn't as if she didn't have her own life here, she was betrothed-- and had Meg the next year. Mme. Giry would be 30 at this time….and, yes, I bumped up the actual character's ages, which I might get sued for, seeing as I don't have any licensing for them, but…it's my story. Age problem solved.

Lotte Love, Caitlin