While Erik was below the Opera House, a young woman of 20 years walked the Opera House stage. In one hand, she held a notebook filled with notes and drawings, many from the Opera House. Her other hand was tucking a pen behind her ear, entangling it in her long blonde hair. Brown-hazel eyes scanned the area around the stage.
She began pacing, her mind forming a drawing. This was Kati Harding, a dancer and part-time artist. There wasn't much of a call for dancers at the moment so she had fallen back on her pictures and writings. Kati slipped ion the stage, falling on her back with a thump that resounded through the place. She just laid there, her notebook next to her. Kati gasped, catching her breath.
A dull noise reached Erik's sensitive ears. He looked up. Was he no longer alone in the Opera House? With intense curiosity, he went up to the surface through s trapdoor. Erik climbed a rope with monkey like talent so he could overview the stage. His eagle view revealed a young woman lying on the ground. Dark blue eyes lit up with recognition. He smiled slightly.
Kati sat up with a groan. "Stupid hardwood stage." she muttered. She smiled at the drawing idea that had come from her fall. Kati glanced around for her pen and found it behind her. But what if she made a mistake? No, pen was too risky. She stuck it behind her ear and took a pencil out from behind the other.
Opening her notebook to a clean page, Kati made light but sure pencil strokes. Erik noticed her drawing. However, he was too far away to make out what she was drawing. Erik crawled across the catwalk above her. Soon he was sitting above Kati, one leg dangling. If Kati knew she was being watched, she gave no indication.
Her pencil lines began to take shape. They formed a woman lying with her eyes closed on a swan shaped bed. Rose petals lay scattered on the bed and the woman's form. Kati leaned forward to work on a hand that was holding the back feathers of the swan bed. Her hair drifted down to cover her face and the drawing from view. While her pencil moved across the paper, she hummed softly.
Erik's eyes flashed with annoyance when he found he couldn't watch her draw anymore. He slid down a hanging stage rope, black gloves protecting his hands from the rope burn he might have received. Black shoed feet landed on the stage without any noise. He walked quietly toward her standing at her side. The song she was humming, what was it? It sounded so familiar to him.
Kati was too engrossed in her drawing to notice him come up behind her. It could now been seen that the hand belonged to a man standing next to the swan bed. Half his face was hidden in shadow as he looked down at the woman. As Kati put the final changes on the drawing, she slowed, then stopped her humming.
Erik gasped when he saw the finished drawing. If he had any doubt of who this girl was, it vanished. Only three other people could have known of a scene like this one. Christine, since it had been her in the bed; Madame Giry, as she knew everything that went on; not Raoul, Christine would keep that between her and one other person. That person would have to be Madame Giry's daughter, Meg. She and Christine were as close as sisters back then. It all fit. Kati glanced sharply at him, a frown on her face. Erik spoke first, "Meg, you have hidden talents. I wonder, do you still dance?
"How do you know my middle name? I don't recall meeting you, Monsieur." Kati said in response. Erik laughed. "Meg is your first name, Meg Giry. Surely, you haven't forgotten the Phantom of the Opera, the Opera Ghost and poor Erik? Have you forgotten the Angel of Music that you talked with Christine about?" Kati looked at him blankly, but slowly understanding came to her face. "He's here, the Phantom of the Opera." She uttered the same words she had said so
many years ago during 'Il Muto.'