Hello! This fic has nothing to do with Paint Never Dries, for starters. Also, I must warn you I didn't follow ALW by heart. There shall be Leroux elements, because I can't countain myself. And do forgive me for mistakes, like always. English is not my first language, I'm Brazilian. I hope you guys vote and comment. I'd be honored, no matter if it is criticism. Thank you! Meg is a character I love. And as a side note. There is a character here not only based, but the spitting image from the 1990 Charles Dance series. Don't worry, you will know! Unless you only care for Gerard Butler (ew).

As for Gerard Butler... IMO he is a sweet and nice guy and that is where it ends. Bad casting. He is gorgeous? Then picture my Hugh Panaro on this phanfic. He is the most Leroux and the most in character. Ever. Even though I must acknowledge there are so many amazing Phantoms, especially in books and even in phanfictions. Gerry, sorry, you're NOT one of them.

And no, if Christine shows up here, she's DEFINITELY not Emmy Rossum. A little girl who hadn't even watched a single Phantom show to prepare for the part.

Now, as for Patrick Wilson, if he appeared (spoiler, he won't), you should imagine him at your will. Plus, he NEVER became a drunkard, just so you know.

And the most important. I've seen MANY Megs. But... Okay, now, judge me. Picture Jennifer Ellison for this phanfiction. She is so... so... *sigh* perfect.

Chapter 01 –

Meg stared. And stared. It had been thus for months. She could barely concentrate on her own mother's balet classes now.

The cornsilk hair ballerina was obsessed.

And with a mask.

After that mysterious man entered that throne and disappeared, that was all he left behind.

"Who is he?" she thought to herself.

Well. Time to find out.

But how?

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Meg fell during the fouéttes, for being so distracted in class.

"Meg!" Madame Giry cried "What are you musing about?"

Suddenly, she had a spark. Her mother! She had all the information she might need!

But would she give it?

Well, if necessary she would even grovel.

"Pardon, Mama. I can be clumsy. I didn't mean to disappoint you. I love you."

Madame Giry was startled.

"Oh, I... Meg, please!" all the ballerinas were laughing. "Moderation is key to everything. Let's continue, girls!"

Well, her mother was tough. But she would convince her Mama if it was the last thing she did.

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Madame Giry and Meg slept in separate rooms in the Opera. When Giry was awoken by someone knocking on her door, she got really scared.

"Mama!" Meg whispered "It's me!"

"Meg!" she opened the door wearing her nightgown "What are you doing here? Awaken at this hour!"

"Mama, there's a good reason! I need to talk to you."

Madame Giry sighed.

"Come in, Meg."

In Madame Giry's room there was an armchair, a wardrobe and a bed.

"Now you are suddenlly mute?"

Meg was beginning to lose face. But she took a deep breath and started.

"Mama... What do you know about the Phantom of the Opera? Could you tell me everything?"

Madame Giry blanched.

"Meg. Go to your room."

"But, Mama!"

" . . Now!"

Meg was so angry. She marched to her room with tears pooling in her eyes.

But then...

She had a brilliant idea.

Visit Christine's room. She had a master key. She scavenged from Joseph Buquet's corpse.

Christine's room was apparently as normal as always. Meg sighed and leaned on the mirror.

It gave way. The ballerina gave a little shriek.

There was a clue! She forced the mirror to open and saw all that darkness. It was ominous.

But she entered anyway.

The ballerina walked a long time in darkness, alone, scared. Meg passed by a place she knew to be the Opera boilers, but it actually looked like demons. She walked further, there was water, a lake? Till she bumped into something.

"A boat?"

Then, light was made.

There was someone there. Staring at her. With a nasty look.

And his face!

It was full of things that seemed like tumors, but even worse than that and his mouth was distorted, he had almost no hair...

At the same time as she analyzed, Meg didn't realize she had been screaming. Screaming with all the strength of her lungs.

Until she fainted.

What she failed to understand was how she woke up in her own bed.

She knew it had not been a dream.