He watched from the shadows. The girl had fallen asleep, exhausted, still in her traveling gown. But no, she was no longer a mere girl. She was a young woman, that much was to be sure. And he'd seen her before. But where? A thought came to his head. Could it be…Little Meg? But no. Little Meg had been a pretty thing, but small, and did not have the beauty the woman there had.
He closed the small panel he had been peering through. Moving to the right, he grasped for the switch that would slide the secret door open. Gloved hands found the familiar switch and pulled it. The wall moved in absolute silence, allowing a space for Erik, the famed 'Opera Ghost,' to slide through. It shut behind him without noise. Moving closer to the bed, he now stood over her, his gaze fixed intently on her beautiful face.
It was Meg, all right, beautiful, beautiful Meg. Somehow he had missed her arrival at the Opera House, despite his careful vigilance. He was very interested in how his Opera was now to be run, very interested indeed. For five long years he had dwelt in the catacombs while the Opera House was rebuilt. He had wished strongly at the time for the world to think him dead, another victim of love's cruelty. Even for one so used to solitude as he, Erik had found the five years to be the most unbearable he had ever endured. He had not even seen a human being once during that time, let alone interacted with one.
And then there were the dreams: Dreams of Christine dancing away from him, smiling and laughing coyly. As the years progressed, the dreams changed, and Christine no longer appeared in them at all. He had wiped her from his mind, determined to be free of the little songbird's spell. Could anyone truly blame him? Alone, unloved and hideous, he had found it impossible to resist the spell of the young singer. It was her voice, he reminded himself, not the girl herself that had fascinated him so. Never again would he hear a voice of such ethereal beauty, he knew, and he had put it solidly behind him. Or, at least, he had tried to.
Meg was breathing deeply in her slumber, a misplaced angel illuminated by the glowing moon outside the window. Just a moment longer, he promised himself, unwilling to look away from Meg. Being as he was, Erik appreciated beauty more than most. He understood it, knew it by heart, and could never deny it.
In the hall outside the door, soft footfalls approached. Erik jerked his attention to the door. There was a rap upon it, followed by the soft voice of Madame Giry. "Meg, my love? Are you awake?" Meg's eyes fluttered open, widening at the site of the great shadowy figure that stood over her. Her lips parted to scream, but Erik's gloved hand covered quickly covered her mouth. With a strong arm he pulled her from the bed, holding her against him as he moved toward the hidden door. He was not ready for anyone to discover he was still alive! That meant even Madame Giry, whom he had once trusted with his life. The time was not yet come.
With his back to the wall he clasped the still-struggling Meg to him with the arm that kept her silent, and used his free hand to feel for the hidden switch. He pushed it, and slid back into the passageway with Meg.
In the hall, Madame Giry raised her fist to knock again. She stopped herself, her fist hovering in the air for a moment. Meg had had a long journey, she reasoned with herself, and was most likely sleeping soundly. Perhaps it was best not to wake her. With a mother's hesitation, she picked up her skirts and began to leave. She glanced one final time behind her, and left the hall.
In the passage, Meg struggled like a jungle cat, fighting at her captor with all the desperation and strength she could muster. At last she drove her elbow into her captor's rib cage. He grunted, and his grip relaxed for only a moment. But a moment was all it took. Meg slipped from his arms with a dancer's grace, fleeing from him in the opposite direction. The passage was narrow and stone, lit by some unseen source of light. She had not gotten far before Erik caught up to her, and she screamed as loudly as she could. Her cry echoed through the passage, surrounding the two of them like an eerie blanket.
Erik had something clasped in his hand, and pulling her to him once more, he placed it over her mouth. "I'm sorry, Little Meg," she heard a voice say as she slipped into black unconsciousness.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Sorry this is such a short chapter! I'm working hard to update this, so please review! It keeps me ever-so motivated -