Disclaimer: To think that I have to put this in! Let's be logical. Leroux published the book in 1911, did he not? Do you think I was there then?

Author's note: For pictures that will be from this story- sarrin. what I learned today? If you listen to "Learn to be Lonely" enough times, it will make you cry.

Prologue- La fin est parfois le commencement.

The end is sometimes the beginning.

Where was Christine? They had entered the underground cavern to find it empty. The cries of "Trouver ce meurtrier! Track him down!" died slowly in the room. Candles were burning. Meg, the first to enter the haunted chambers, looked around in puzzlement. Her dark eyes took in the scenery while others arrived behind her and peered around for the tall figure clad in black.

There was a mannequin with a resemblance to her dear friend Christine so eerie that Meg would have assumed it truly was she, had not the dress it had sported been removed earlier. Beside it on the ground lay a dress Meg recognized all too well. Flickering candlelight showed every detail; it was the "Aminta" costume Christine had worn for the role in the Phantom's opera the spectre forced on her. Meg had seen her in it; pale with fright, eyes shining more brightly than usual with unshed tears, shaking hands. Last Meg had seen of the dress, it was on her best friend as the unmasked man seized her and did another disappearing act. Meg's stomach turned; cette bête had forced her out of the "Aminta" costume, and into something else- she couldn't tell what. Had the beast also watched her as she tremulously undressed? Had he leered at her as the costume- the costume of his own vanquished heroine! - slid to the floor?

Meg began to walk around to the other side of the strange bed, half-hoping the man would be crouching there, carefully replacing his mask, when she felt her boot crush something soft.

The blonde ballerina knelt down and took up something of lace and gauze. It dawned upon her that the object was a veil. Meg crushed it in her hand and tossed it to the ground. Lifting her hand to her eyes, she hid the hot tears dripping down her face. She had said to Christine that her Angel of Music was but a dream, and she had been quite mistaken. If she'd listened before, would Christine have gotten into such a mess?

Meg took a deep breath. No, of course not. She was not to blame; it was the Phantom who had done it. And who was the Phantom?

Meg's drying eyes turned to the room. Once more she felt anger at the outfit, something of outrage. That Christine would wed him after what he'd done! And Christine was to marry Raoul! Not that her friend had told her that…Christine, fearing the Phantom's wrath, had kept it secret from everyone. But Meg knew those sorts of things, and was not upset with the concealment. But the Phantom had surely found out…even if he hadn't known she was to marry another anyway, why would he have cared? He would have tried to force marriage on her anyway.

Meg found she felt that quite peculiar, and felt a funny feeling in her stomach. Wouldn't he have simply raped Christine? Wouldn't that have been all he wanted her for?

But no, he went through the trouble of sewing Christine a wedding dress…Meg shook her head. It was difficult with the excitement to grasp such contradiction; a murdering, stealing, hideous, hellish beast…in love with Christine. Not merely lust, not merely the passion of "The Point of No Return". But love? Meg almost shrugged to herself in trying to overcome that.

She heard great splashes behind her as people neared her. Meg turned and spread her arms. Her bewildered eyes showed any response. The mob slowed, the torches swayed. Someone whispered, "He is truly a phantom! He has disappeared, taking the soprano with him!"

There was much discomfited muttering. Meg was not sure what to say. She was glad when another man in the lake addressed the crowd. "The Viscomte must have taken the girl and killed the Phantom!"

"Then where is the body?" came a shout. There was more murmuring as the man thought it out frowning, then silenced them with a reply. "The Viscomte rescued the girl and drove the Phantom out! He's up there now!"

People didn't know what to think, but then a man towards the back shouted, "Then we shall go and greet the Opera Ghost! Come with me!" He began to lead a large group back through the water sluggishly.

People did not trust him at first, but listened and others began to lead. As the light grew slightly dimmer, others began to follow. They were clearing out.

"Mademoiselle Giry?" Meg looked down from where she stood.

"Oui, monsieur?" she asked. It was the remaining person, and he was looking nervously at the retreating group. Mob behaviour, thought Meg. It is simple for a whole group of them to be wild and fearless, but when the mob diminishes the courage does the same.

"Do you not wish to join them?"

"I'll go back later. I want to look for Christine's…dress." The man did not think to look around for it and spot it, luckily.

"Do you not wish to join them, monsieur?" asked Meg politely, looking at the group as they left.

The man nodded his head, and said as he waded back, "Then you'll be all right then?"
Meg laughed lightly.

"You know my mother Madame Giry; I have inherited her temper. I'll be not bothered." The man continued to leave, shrugging. Meg's eyes glanced up at the ceiling. Chandeliers- like the one that had fallen. Her breathing all but halted- what had become of them all? She took a deep breath, then looked at the gate. And blinked.

There was a rope strung up there. She stared at it. A noose- a Punjab lasso.

Meg knew immediately that someone's neck had been through it- and knew whose. Raoul had come to save Christine, as Meg knew well- she had seen her mother take him down to do the rescuing with her own two eyes. The Phantom had tried to kill him. But then Raoul and Christine had somehow gotten away- and the Phantom was nowhere to be found. Perhaps he had let them go? Meg's mind found this hard to wrap itself around then too; her head was spinning. She shook it slowly, and began to walk around the room towards the lake.

Meg's boot stepped upon something again, but this time the sound was that of breaking glass. Beneath her shoe were shards of glass- reflecting a grey stone ceiling.

Meg looked at the wall. Something else had been overlooked! These mirrors had been smashed. One mirror, and glass lay on the floor before it. Another mirror, glass before it as well. And-

Meg's breath caught again for the second time in so many minutes. On the ground before a curtain lay more broken glass and a candlestick. Surely the heavy golden object had been used to smash each looking glass! But what of the glass on the floor? There were only two mirrors, weren't there?

Meg drew back the curtain and shivered. Behind it was a passageway- a mirror doorway before it. Meg recognized it as being the same sort of passage that she'd found in Christine's dressing-room the night her friend had disappeared.

Meg stared into the dark cavernous hallway, then took a step back. Her foot stepped on the candlestick and she tripped, holding her hand out behind her to catch herself. Her hand landed on a tabletop and she caught herself.

Meg shut her eyes and let her heartbeat slow. Then she rested her head against the cabinet her hand had caught. When she opened her eyes, calmed, she jumped again.

The Phantom!

No, Meg Giry, said the more reasonable voice in her head, just his mask.

Meg got to her feet and looked down at it. Yes, it was indeed the Mask of the Phantom. She picked up the leather object, staring at the eyehole as fixedly as if another eye had stared out of it at her. Then she looked back at the open doorway. It looked like the gaping mouth of a corpse- the corpse that the Opera Ghost could have turned Raoul de Chagny into, but didn't.

Meg stared and stared, then finally stepped forward and jerked the curtain shut. If Christine was going to let that man go, then so was Marguerite Giry.

Meg began walking down the stairs leading into the lake, then she realised that she held the white half-mask in her hand.

She blinked down at it, then tucked it in her shirt and continued.