Confession of a Wallflower
Chapter 1
A/N: Okay, so the age thing here, I know it's a bit tricky to tell in the movie how old everyone is but I'm gonna say Mme. Giry was 17 when she found Erik (Very very very rough guesstimate.) and Erik was about 7. I'm gonna say Meg is 21 or 22 in the final scene of the movie and Erik was 31-32. (It's been confirmed that Christine was about 20 when the events took place. I'm gonna say Meg was a year or two older than Christine just so the story fits together a little better.)
Enjoy :)
Disclaimer: I do not own anything associated or related to Phantom of the Opera.
She watched from a distance as Raoul approached the threshold of the Phantom of the opera. She had followed down, against her mother's wishes and she was now almost witnessing the murder of her best friend's fiancé. She watched as the Phantom bargained Christine, be with him and set Raoul free, or kill Raoul. She watched in horror as the Phantom darkly told her to make her choice. She was past the point of no return, literally. As Christine slipped the ring in her finger and journeyed out into the water, she kissed the Phantom. Twice. He let her go, and they left while he sat in silence as she came back one more time to give him back the ring. She watched devastated for him as Christine left again and he broke down into sobs. She couldn't watch any longer, she went back up stairs to the home she didn't have.
As Meg led the mob toward the underground fortress that housed the Phantom, she contemplated what this meant for her. If she led them to him and caught him, finally she would have something to her name other than "Ballerina Brat" or "That Giry woman's headstrong child" she would be "Meg the woman who led the mob to capturing her best friend's obsessor". Running ahead before the mob, she hoped to find him a little before everyone else, add a little more credit to her name. She never usually acted like this, so selfish, she was a quiet little ballerina who stood on the sidelines occasionally opinionated. No one paid her a second glance, she didn't pay anyone else a second glance. She was a wallflower, an unseen, and she was fine with it. Or so she thought.
Entering the grand room, she took her time looking around. She was far ahead of the mob so, she took liberties to explore. Noticing the burnt remains of what looked like wax figures dressed in the costumes for Don Juan, remembering the disaster of what happened, she silently chastised Christine for acting out of impulse. 'Why did you have to pull off his mask? Maybe I would still have a home if you had restrained yourself.' She loved Christine, like a little sister. But Christine led everyone to believe she was the innocent victim of his mind games but, she threw back everything she got. She unmasked him in public. And as she caught a short glimpse of her huddled over Raoul as they made their escape, she saw that she had deceived both of the men. Sometimes Christine could be very flighty, and Meg didn't appreciate it, having had no suitors while Christine had had so many and she brushed them off without a sideways glance.
She traveled into what seemed to be his bedroom, noting the mannequin of Christine to her left, on the way, and shivering at the similarities. The bed was covered in rich red velvet's and satin, and was carved to what looked like a swan and she caught a flash of white to her left in the room. She looked at the dainty mask for a lingering moment until she heard the approaches of the oncoming mob. Grabbing the mask, she stuffed it in a small satchel, while blindly grabbing for other things scattered in the room. She didn't know what she planned to do with all these belongings but she felt that she needed to grab them.
She needed another way out, so the mob didn't take what she has taken. They were out for blood and would do anything to get it.
She found shards of mirrors everywhere. 'Someone's in for some back luck.' She thought sardonically, stepping to the last one, she found what seemed to be a whole mirror laying on the floor, along with an empty, forgotten, candelabra. She thought it weird to be a curtain over the one mirror, when all the rest were bare. Deciding to scratch the itch to investigate, she lifted the heavy velvet drape. Staring into the cold, pitch black tunnel, she assumed this was the only way out. Closing the drapery behind her, she set out to find a way through. What she didn't assume was all the intricate twists and turns of the tunnel. They were probably meant to keep people like her out and people like the Phantom in. Following her instincts, and noting the wrong turns she had taken, she had finally gotten to a place where she could hear an activity. It felt like she had searched the tunnel for hours, and now there was a possibility she was finally going to get out and stay in her aunt and uncle's Paris vacation home, where her mother wanted her to, while Madame Giry would stay at the opera house and survey the clean up while our dear managers found the stagehands and chorus girls places to stay. Stopping to slip off her sodden toe shoes, she surveyed the dirt and grime along the wet silk, until she heard a noise. Stopping abruptly, and listening closely, she didn't hear it again. She ventured toward the noise.
Listening closer, and taking a few hesistant steps forward in the tunnel, she heard human activity, but not footsteps. It sounded like sobbing. Stepping closer, the noise became more clear. It most definitely wasn't female. No, the moans of anguish were much to deep to be produced by a female, and the only one she knew of who had been down here other than herself was Christine. Her long adjusted eyes, spotted a white shirt leaned up against the wall, looking even closer she found a man with his face in his hands, elbows on his knees on the ground sobbing like a lost boy. Meg's eyes softened, eyebrows knitting with worry, as she looked upon this man. He really had loved her. He was not a ghost or even a phantom, he was a man who just needed someone to love him. He needed compassion. Not pity. She was going to show him that not everyone was the same. She could be different. She would be like her mother. Take him to the house, show him she could care for him like Christine never could.
When Christine told Meg what had happened, Christine revealed when the Phantom had taken her and talked about them together, all she could see was darkness, secrecy, hiding. When Raoul professed his love, Christine saw happiness, brightness, comfort. This was the complete opposite for her friend. Meg had seen him once when her mother reported to him. She slept in her mother's quarters near the basement of the opera house, she had had a nightmare. He was about ten years older than she. That put him at about eighteen years old at the time, and he was already running the opera house. She had always been secretly fascinated by him, and often left him notes in box five where only he and her mother were granted access. She always asked one of the older chorus girls to write Opera Ghost or Phantom on the envelope so her mother would simply think it was a letter from a strange woman passing through. Many times, they were simply pleas for him to make something interesting happen at rehearsals. Almost always ending in Carlotta stomping out. The last night that she had spent the night in her mother's room, she went back to the dormitories to find a note under her pillow labeled Marguerite in wonderful cursive. Her little cheeks had reddened at the thought of an admirer's note, not registering that the cursive was too developed for it to be a young boy. Tearing open the envelope with her eager hands, she read the note again and again.
'Marguerite,
I appreciate your notes, and please be patient with me as I plan new things to make the opera house more exciting.
Also, please do not be frightened of little nightmares, dear child. For I am here, watching over you, you are not alone. Remember that next time.
O.G.'
Snapping out of her trance like flash back, she remembered the poor, heartbroken man who sat before her. She cleared her throat softly, as if scared to interrupt him. She heard him sharply inhale and stand, covering the right side of his face. She looked down a moment, as if waiting for him to collect himself. When she finally looked up, his hair was still in disarray, his clothing was sodden, and his eyes still red. He looked at her half-expectantly, half-irritably
"I- "
"Have you come here to tell me something? Or have you come here just to stare at the hideousness?" He asked angrily, ripping his hand from his face. She admitted, she gasped. But not from horror, not from the detestable nature of his condition, just from simply the shock. She may have screamed after Christine had unmasked him but, who else would expect someone to unmasked a man with a facial deformity right one the stage. Not only had Meg never seen him closer than fifteen feet, she had only seen the left half of his face. She had never expected to see him to close and the other side of his face; in one night no less! At her silence he whipped around and stomped toward the exit of the tunnels.
"Wait," She ran after him, placing a hand gently on his right shoulder-blade. "where will you go?" She asked as he whipped around and grabbed her wrist in a death like grip.
"That's none of your concern, Little Giry." He said harshly. She flinched at the pet name and he stalked off yet again. Chasing after him yet again, she stopped him as he was about to exit the tunnels and land behind the opera house, where policemen and firemen still lingered.
"You have nowhere to go, your clothes are wet, you have no mask -"
"Everyone has already looked. No one should be shocked now. I'm even more the talk of the town than I was before. Leave me in peace." He demanded yet still lingered as if waiting for her to fight back.
"At least come with me until things die down." She watched him silently nod, stiffly, but he agreed. "Here." She handed him the satchel with his things. The first thing he pulled out was his heavy cloak, pulling it on, he looked through the rest of the satchel. He brought out his mask and replaced it on his face. Digging around in the bag, a small, yellowed, piece of paper fell to the ground. Rescuing it before it could get damage, Meg brought it to where she could see it and turned it over to reveal it to be the note she left him those so many years ago. Reading it once again, she had been embarrassed for herself to write a complete stranger so abruptly.
'Dear Phantom,
Life in the opera house can be very boring. Could you perhaps play a few of your tricks and make me very happy?
I'll be eternally grateful.
Marguerite Giry.'
"Mademoiselle," She looked up to find the Phantom staring at her very expectantly. She handed him back the note and he stuffed it nonchalantly back in the satchel. "if you would be so kind as to show me the way to wherever you're taking me, I would be forever grateful." She nodded silently and stepped forward. She held a finger to her lips as she passed him, noticing how he did his best to tame his hair and proceeded to pull the hood up on his cloak. She silently padded out of the tunnel and was met with the chaos of opera staff and firemen everywhere. She kept them along the edge of the wall where they were shadowed enough to make an escape.
Finding the carriage her mother had ordered, she made sure the Phantom got safely inside before letting her mother know of her departure. She entered the carriage, and told the driver the address of her Uncle's vacation home. The ride there was a stifling silence that lingered over the two beings in the carriage. Meg had nothing to say to him, that she could voice at this very moment. The Phantom wished to be left alone but he knew he had made the right decision coming with the ballerina.
"After we arrive at our destination, I will show you to the kitchen, wash room, and your bedroom. You are to make yourself at home there until things die down, and I will not take no for an answer." She told him with a surge of confidence.
"I think you underestimate who you are dealing with, Mademoiselle." He said, leaning dangerously close to her. Who was this little theater brat to tell him what he was to do?
"Meg." Was all she said, he looked at her. "If you are going to be in the same home as me for however long the city remains in uproar, you might as well call me what everyone else does." He nodded. "I don't suppose you have your own name? Or am I supposed to call you Phantom for the rest of the time being?" He sat staring blankly out the window as if he hadn't heard her. She looked straight ahead of her with determination written on her face.
Finally they arrived at the house and she exited the carriage, but didn't wait to see if the Phantom had followed her, for she already knew he had nowhere else to go. Entering the spacious house, she looked forward through the narrow, long, hallway into the kitchen. To her left was the drawing-room, next to which was the dining room; which also connected to the kitchen. To her right was another living area just past the staircase. Up the staircase, and slightly to the right was the washroom, to the left there were six bedrooms and one more sitting room at the very end of the hall. Meg left the master bedroom untouched, and led the Phantom to the last room of the hallway. She turned down his bed for him, and set his satchel in the closet, and put his cloak on a hook in the wall next to the door. She took the room two doors down, deciding not to be so close, for everyone's comfort. He said not one word to her for the rest of the night.
'If that's the way it's going to be, so be it.'
A/N: Hey all, I found this little story on my iPod, apparently I had written it a few years ago and it sat in my e-mail until I dug it up a couple weeks ago, where I have been reading a revising where I can. It's finished so, if it gets good/enough feedback, I'm interested in expanding and posting the rest of the chapters.
At this point, I'm trying to tie up all loose ends with my writings, trying to get everything that's unfinished finished and so forth so I can maybe move on and mature in my writing.
This might be a little OOC, rushed, too fluffy, very romantical for everyone, but I thought, why the heck not, to posting it. I'm a huge E/M fan, it's kind of a guilty pleasure ship.
So, I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it!
Good? Bad? Lemme know!
