Disclaimer: As with all things that go with Fan Fiction, I must now state that I do not own any of the characters used. All rights are property of Andrew Lloyd Webber and Gaston Leroux, for the original story idea. However, elements of Susan Kay's Phantom were also used in places. Try and find out where! Enjoy, read and review!
Original lyrics from Hunchback of Notre Dame by Disney, tweaked a bit for my use.
Ever since Buquet had died, the Opera Populaire was left in utter pandemonium; a chaotic whirl of emotion that made Meg's head hurt with stress but she ignored the gnawing worry in the back of her mind. The Phantom had killed Buquet simply because he had tried to assault her (and others, I am sure; she thought to herself after a moment of thoughtful silence, broken only by the sounds of her tuning up), so who knows what the Phantom would do if he found out about Meg's growing fascination with him.
It was still weeks before Don Juan Triumphant debuted. She spent time planning for the dance solo the Phantom wrote for her, and that took a long of time to prepare for. Not only was this task on her plate, but she was also spending her nights practicing her violin; hoping to impress the Phantom with her efforts.
Meghan Giry was in her room, practicing her violin as per normal (for the last two weeks, anyway) in the evening time. Her fingers hurt so bad that she thought they were going to cramp into that position for the rest of her life, but she kept plucking on, eager and determined to please the mysterious Phantom that had become her…Angel of Music, for lack of a better turn of phrase. Putting down the violin on her dresser for a moment, Meg decided to stand from her boudoir and practice in front of her mirror.
It wasn't as large and ornate looking as Christine's was, but it was a decent mirror none the less. Whereas Christine's was in gold, Meg's was in silver with water styled motif (consisting of silver lily pads and lotus blossoms) decorations around it. She thought it was a lovely thing, no matter how many times her mother tried to dissuade her from it. "It'll tarnish over the years, Meg," she could hear her mother saying in her head: "Best not get attached to it."
The blonde ballerina was just about to start practicing some of her dance steps, clad in only her chemise and stockings, when a voice spoke (no, sang!) practically in her ear:
"Why I see her dancing there? Why her smoldering eyes still scorch my soul?"
Meg didn't know quite what to do, other than choke back the scream that threatened to bubble in her throat and burst from her lips like an incorporeal bile of the soul. She bit on her bottom lip, bruising it harshly as he sang again.
"I feel her, I see her; the sun caught in her shining hair, is blazing in me out of all control!"
His voice sent shivers of fright and desire through the young blonde, confusing and delighting her at the same time. How long has he been watching me? She thought wildly as she searched for any sign of where his voice could be coming from, that sexual and powerful voice that threatened…and adored at the same time. She was used to hearing such a voice speaking (or singing) to Christine only, and now…here he was, serenading her instead!
"Come on out, Monsieur Le Fantome" Meg whispered softly into the dim light of her room.
To her amazement, the mirror in front of her swung open and showed a secret passage way through it. She gasped audibly, watching as the fully clad Phantom stepped through the door and into her room with a smirk. "How long have you been spying on me?" She breathed.
"Spying on you?" He returned with a laugh, devilishly charming in its tones. "Now why would I want to do such a debauched thing as that? I call it…" He paused, tapping his chin with a rather maddened looking grin on his face. "Observing" He finished after a lengthy pause, during which he looked her up and down with a rather…searching gaze that made Meghan feel as if she was being undressed…with only his eyes as tools!
"Well," said Meg slowly, in a thoughtful manner. "How long have you been observing me then?"
"Long enough," The reply came from that masterful voice as he circled around her, his eyes alight. He seemed to be enjoying the sense of fear that was rolling off Meg, making her shiver visibly. "You've been practicing a lot." He stated simply as he watched her, stopping to stand in front of her directly. "I am very impressed."
Meg didn't know exactly what to say to that, so she chose to be a good woman and stay quiet until he asked her a direct question. As he went silent, Meg began to realize how little she was wearing and how chilly it actually was in her room. Wrapping her arms about her chest in what she hoped to be a defensive stance, Meg spoke finally: "You should be; I have been working my fingers to the bone to impress you."
He laughed softly, his eyes shining as he looked down at her petite figure. "And such work does not go unrewarded, lovely" He seemed to croon as he moved closer to her, making her heart all but stop in her chest. She half expected him to touch her, but he did not; he was offering her something, instead. She looked down at his outstretched hand and in it, was rolled vellum. She blinked at his hand a couple of times, before looking up at him.
"What is it?" She couldn't stop the impetuous question before it fell off her lips. The question was obviously idiotic in the Phantom's eyes, because he gave her a quelling look that seemed to say "can you really be that stupid?" without saying a word.
"It's a musical score; for you," He said with a small smile as he pushed the roll of parchment into her hands. "After talking with the conductor, I wrote this to go along with your dance solo," He explained. "I have had, for the past week, the most beautiful imago of you dancing with your violin, much like the gypsies of old." It flattered Meg to think that the Phantom saw her in such an exotic (and erotic) manner, causing an attractive blush to spread across her cheeks and neck.
The Phantom smirked as he watched her color so prettily at his imagery: You could have them both you know, said an evil little voice in the back of his head, but he ignored it: He was a gentleman, and gentlemen did not lust after other women…not when he had such a flawless beauty such as Christine in his grip. In fact, it was quite cruel of him to tease her in such a way but he didn't care about that either.
There was a long moment of silence, during which Meg looked over the score. It was a lovely piece; light hearted and springy, almost like a jig but not quite. Once she was finished looking at it, Meg lifted her head to thank him but in that period of silence, the Phantom had excused himself without a word…leaving only a single white rose (decorated with a pink ribbon) upon her dresser in his wake.
Meg knew what was happening, how could she not? She had heard Raoul, the managers Gilles Andre and Richard Firmin talking about it one night; somehow, getting roped into their plan at the same time. She stood in the wings of the stage, clad in her red and black gypsy garb. She watched and timed the chorus girls, with whom she would have been dancing if not for the sudden changes in the play, so she could be ready to hop out onto stage. After the "whores" of the chorus finished their cacophony around Piangi, she was to jump out on stage as randomly as any Romani and begin her solo, much like a desperate gypsy woman on the street corner.
Meg was, for lack of a better term, scared shitless: This was the first time she would be performing for an audience when it came to her violin, and she feared she was not good enough. If he thought you weren't good enough, said the logical part of her mind, then he wouldn't have written this piece for you!
"Meg!" The hissing voice of her mother brought her back to life. "Stop daydreaming! It's almost time for your scene!" Meg knew it was, but she was glad to have her mother bring her back down to earth, regardless.
When it was time, Meg eagerly leapt out of the wings of the stage and into the limelight. Just forget everything else, she said to herself; it's just you, the music and your Angel of Music! And as she began to flow into her song and dance, Meg had one last stabilizing thought:
Try and outshine Christine; for once in your life, God damn it.
The whole of the Opera House was silent as her gracefully wiry body, clad in corset and flowing black skirt, twisted and leapt across the stage in a carefree, jovial manner as she smiled and batted her eyes in a beguiling manner. In the background, as per the storyline of the Opera, Christine began wandering out onto the stage. Though it was also part of the play, Christine's face was a perfect mask of awe and wonder at the sight of the blonde gypsy on stage. She really is impressed! Thought Meg eagerly as her dance movements soon brought her over to Christine, where she danced and fiddled away in a mad circle of delight around the maiden, whom Christine was playing. But there was one last part in the Opera for Meg to do, before Piangi (or the Phantom, she reminded herself as she thought of the plan that lies in wait for him) was to begin his duet with Christine. And it was this last part that made Meg nervous.
When her aria reached its crescendo, the violin's voice shrieking like a demon let loose from the Inferno in its hellish beauty, Meg paused and stripped away the elaborate skirt to show her long, dancing legs in all their glory…clad only in a pair of devil red tights, that a comic looking devil tail sticking out of the back. Christine's eyes went wide when she saw the devil tail, and (keeping in character all the while) gave a very operatic sounding shriek of fear, after which Meghan gave a cackling laugh and danced away.
This seemed to please the audience: Immensely. When she was in the safety of the dressing room, Meg took a moment to listen to the brief but thunderous applause after her impressive dance, meant to symbolize the succubae thoughts that would be tormenting the maiden, her desire enflamed by the love of her diabolical master. Never before had any one ever cheered like that for Meg, even though she had long been the Prima Ballerina after La Sorelli's mysterious disappearance: They were usually always cheering for Christine, instead.
Meg had other parts in the end of the Opera, the climax, though and she had to be ready for it. In the climax, she was a simple pirate wench in the background and she was just about to finish lacing up her thigh high boots when her mother's frantic voice came hissing around the corner.
"Meg! Get out here, hurry! The Phantom took the bait!"
What? How could he be so stupid? Thought Meg wildly, half angry with the Phantom and half worried for his safety as she came hurrying out of her dressing room, her boot straps flapping behind her. She finally caught up with her mother, her facial features gently twisted into a look of concern as she looked up at the pair on the scaffolding.
"—one final question; how long should we two wait before we're one? When will the blood begin to roast, the sleeping bud burst into bloom? When will the flames at last consume us?" The flawless voice of Christine was singing as Meg stepped up beside her mother, just before Christine was about to be enwrapped in the Phantom's waiting arms. The look of devotion and utter love that was on the Phantom's masked face was obvious: How could Christine not want to be with such a soulful, devout man? She mused to herself as she watched the scene with a feeling of bittersweet jealousy in her heart.
Then he began to sing, and all thought was wiped from Meg's mind; lost in the spell of his voice.
"Say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime. Lead me, save me from my solitude. Say you'll want me with you here, beside me…" The way he cradled Christine's face for that brief moment was so intimate, so loving. "Anywhere you go…let me go too! Christine, that's all…I ask…of…!"
Then it happened, and Meg saw (for the first time) what Christine had seen that night she went missing:
Where Meg had imagined a lush and handsome face, there was not but a gaping hole that showed massive amounts of disfigurement; it was so horrendous that through the mounds of (what appeared to be, anyway) scarred flesh one could even see through to the bone. She stared while she could, and then…
All hell broke loose.
Before Meg knew what was happening, Christine and the Phantom dropped down into a trap door directly amidst the stage. But to let loose the trap door, the Phantom had to rig a real trap that brought the chandelier crashing down on the audience, amid shrieks and screams of horror from the crowd. Meg was doing her best to stay at her mother's side amidst the turmoil going on around them, all the while listening to Raoul's desperate pleas with her mother:
"Where did he take her?" Raoul inquired forcibly, his voice barely heard amongst the hub-bub of the chaotic crowd around them all.
"Come with me, Monsieur!" Her mother said quickly in reply, as the small group jostled and hurried through the rampaging crowd. "I will take you to him!"
"I'll come with you!" Meg was quick to pipe up as well, but was quickly told "no" by her mother.
Meg stared after the departing figures of Raoul and her mother; but only for a moment, because soon…she was overtaken by the mob. For a while, Meg did her best to keep the crowd back: She didn't want to agitate the situation even more, or the Phantom would hurt Christine, which she definitely didn't want. Eventually, however, the crowd overpowered her.
"You're either with us or against us, girlie!" A large, smelly man said in a growl as he shook Meg bodily by the shoulder. She grimaced and twisted herself out of his arms, her nose delicately wrinkling from the smell of him.
"Fine; come with me, then" Meg said with a glare as she lead the way down to the catacombs…the long way, since she didn't get shown the short way by her mother; unlike Raoul. It took the mob and Meg several minutes to wind their way through the labyrinthine catacombs of the Paris Opera House; and were slowed even more when she had to go back to save an idiot from one of the many traps lying in wait for them. All the while, as the group made their way to the Phantom's hide out, Meg was fretting about her strange friend: Is he okay? Is she okay? Will Raoul kill him? Will I have to kill Raoul to save him? Such were her thoughts as her worry reached a fever pitch.
Any moment, any moment! She chanted to herself in her mind as she hurried through the tunnels toward the catacomb lair that her mother once told her of. But when Meg passed through the entrance way…she found an empty lair, with the scattered remains of broken mirror all over the floor. Panting delicately through her nose, Meg gently picked and stepped her way through the water until she reached the landing. As she began inspecting for signs of life, Meg caught something out the corner of her eye; a white something lying on a nearby side table. After taking a quick look around to make sure she wasn't being followed anymore, Meg made a bee-line for the white object; a lone mask amongst old musical score sheets.
She knelt down next to it, and delicately lifted the alabaster object off the table. As she ran her long fingers (bruised and calloused horribly from the violin strings), Meg's eyes widened: The mask was still warm! This meant someone had been holding it just recently. Tucking the mask into her shirt, Meg stood and took a quick cursory glance around: The mob was still out in the main catacomb, not having made it to this smaller, adjoining room yet. Good; she thought as she began checking for any trap doors; behind drapes, under tables and all the while she looked, Meg only thought this: He had to have gotten out somewhere around here but where? It was almost maddeningly frustrating for the ballerina, but she soon found her prize! Lying behind a large, ornate mirror (smashed open) with a large, black drape hanging in front of it; was a door way. Meg hurried forward to it and let herself inside; just barely missing the cops as they began bustling into the room beyond.
She huddled near the mirror trap-door, holding the drape closed for the moment. She could hear weeping down the hall behind her, and it made her heart ache in sympathy pains at the sound of such a broken sob…coming from a man, no less! She had never heard a man weep before, and the sound was quite…disheartening; to say the least. But Meg didn't pay much attention, as she watched the Police and the mob begin picking through the wreckage.
Meg stayed hidden for quite some time; so long, in fact, that she thought she could hear the nightly rats begin skittering around her feet. Lost in pitch darkness, Miss Giry sighed into the silence when (finally) the Police left the now burned Opera Populaire. She was just about to start letting herself out from behind the drapery when a hand shot out to clasp about her wrist. It was just the Phantom, but she didn't know this, so; she did the only natural thing:
She screamed.
The shriek echoed in the darkness of the catacomb tunnel exit that they were both hidden in; like a banshee's wail of despair and fright. It hit the Phantom in the chest, from the emotion behind it: He had not meant to scare her so badly! In a panic, the Phantom clapped his other hand (his left still holding onto her wrist) quickly around her mouth to stifle her screams; but he also had to fight the instinct to snap her neck in two, since he was still in the flight or fight response from the conflict involving Christine and Raoul. Meg, not knowing it was just the Phantom, fought and twisted about in his arms madly, making him have to tighten his hold on her. Using her wrist as leverage, the Phantom pushed her backward to the wall and pinned her forcibly to the wall with her wrist above her head; his right hand still clamped tightly on her mouth.
Because of how dark it was, Meg could only see his eyes but in a way; that was better for her, since she always found his mismatched (one blue, one amber) eyes so captivating. She began to slacken in his tight grip, submitting to him by shushing her screaming and looking plaintively up at him. The Phantom, breathing in her scent through his flaring nostrils, was frozen against her lean, wiry figure for a moment. He had not expected to run into Meghan down here; in fact, he had not expected to see her at all again after the Opera…which was a shame after such a delicious show she gave during the play. Unable to look her in the eyes any more, the Phantom let her go and backed away.
"I am sorry, Meghan; I didn't mean to startle you" the Phantom said softly as he looked at her through the darkness that was settled thick around them; much like the gossamer lace of Meg's gown during the Opera, or said the Phantom's imagination as he began playing back the visage of Meg's dancing in his mind. But the real thing, oh, the real blonde beauty was even more stunning to look at…especially in the beauty of the shadow around them. The Phantom was silent as he watched Meg approach, her skin shining in the faint light (coming from a manhole above them) like alabaster and her hair…oh, shone like the sun itself!
"It's all right" Soothed Meg as she reached out to touch his arm. "I'm all right…what about you?" She knew she was repeating herself, but the ballerina wasn't worried about proper grammar at the moment: She was worried about her friend, the unnamed Phantom. The Phantom stared back at her for a moment, before he began to do a rather odd thing: Laugh.
It started as a chuckle, and then became a full throated guffaw but the nature of the laugh…that is what disturbed Meg as she heard it. It was mad; crazy even! Fey in its despair and lunacy! She had never expected to hear such a lunatic sound from such a genius man! Before she knew it, though; Meg was reeling away from the Phantom as if he had come rushing at her, shrieking in his dismay: But he stayed where he was, huddled against the stone wall and it was only his powerful voice that seemed to move all around her.
"Alright "He paused, giving a slight chortle before continuing on: "Alright!? 'Am I all right?' She asks me! She dares ask me this!" The Phantom suddenly began reaching for her shoulders. She froze in fear as he clasped his fists around her delicate shoulders, squeezing so hard that it hurt but she was too scared to do much else than stare up at him. She gave a whimpering squeak in her throat as he suddenly shook her violently, hissing in her face as he spoke again: "Of course I'm not bloody well alright, you fool." Tears began to leak down her cheeks as she fought for breath.
"No, no; of course not" Meg breathed as she stared up at his face, the ravaged parts of it hidden by the shadows and his long matt of black hair. "But…will you be alright?" He seemed even more infuriated at these words, so much so that he bodily tossed her from him. What happened next was an unfortunate thing; completely accidental, of course but unfortunate none the less.
Now, as previously recounted before, Meg was awfully clumsy and this was the major factor. When he shoved her so suddenly from him, Meg ended up tripping over her bootstraps (that she did not fully fasten before running out to find the voice of her mother) and went flailing into the darkness. There was a sickening crack and a wash of pain as Meg's head hit the wall, her back nestling into the stoneware as she slid down it. She was seeing stars, but also hearing wild cries of distress and panic as the Phantom could feeling around for her small form in the shadow, so pitch that it was near impossible to see anything: He only had the scant light from the cracked manhole cover above for guidance, but the Phantom managed to find her.
The Phantom scooped her petite form easily up into his arms, cradling her bleeding head to his shoulder as he felt her head; checking to see how bad the head injury was. She could barely see him through the blood that was washing into her eyes, but Meg managed a small smile up at him anyway. This seemed to make the Phantom feel even worse because he soon began to weep again. "Merde," he cursed passionately as he fingered her long, bloody, blond tresses in his fingers. "Just hold on, ma petite ange: I am so sorry, please; please, don't die!"
"Death…in your arms…" Croaked the pained Meg, half sobbing and half laughing as she gazed up at him: She didn't know if she was really dying or not, but she wanted to make sure that if she was…then she wanted to make sure he remembered it: And how better else to make one remember then by…?
"—is Heaven compared to the lonely life I led without your embrace…" These last words of Meghan Giry came in a hissing gasp of pain before she passed out…with his howling sobs of remorse in her ears.