Note: I tried a litte poetry/song in this chapter. Let me know what you think. Yay or Nay.

Meg had been looking for her mother all day without success. She reached up and wiped her blonde hair from off her sweaty face. It's so hot in here, and the opera house is a mess. Meg eyed the ruins around her. The stage and theater seating had been burned beyond recognition, the halls and dormitories weren't much better. There were still a lot of people rummaging through the charred remains, even after two weeks, looking for something that belong to them.

Meg had only found a few pictures and some dresses.

"Meg my girl where are you." Its mother, finally she's here. " Mother, where have you been?" Meg ran up to her mother and kissed her on the cheek. Then she noticed her mother's appearance. Her usually neat hair was a mess and her dress was ripped on the sleeves, her mother had bit of dirt smudged across her forehead.

Madame Giry sat on one nearby chairs; her breathing was heavy, as if she had been in a hurry.

Meg repeated her question " Mother, I've been looking everywhere for you, where have you been?"

" Meg please go get me some medical supplies together, and perhaps, some fruits and a little brandy."
Meg stared at her mother. "Brandy !! Mother you don't drink!"
Madame Giry waved her daughter away, " Do as I say child and hurry."

Meg rushed off to do as her mother said. These past to weeks have been taking a toll on mother, but I didn't think it was enough to make her drink. And where has mother been disappearing to for the past several days?
She found the items and brought them back to her mother. Her mother thanked her, and with a swish of her long black skirt, she left.

Meg shrugged her shoulders. She had her own problems, why bother about her mother's.

She went off to listen to Monsieur Andre and Monsieur Firmin discuss their plans for rebuilding the Opera Populaire.

"Two years to rebuild the Opera Populaire!" Firmin shouted. "Good God, what have we gotten ourselves into! We should have stayed in the junk business!"
"Scrap metal" an exasperated Andre muttered.
" It's that insane Phantom's fault" Firmin moaned. "Actually it's yours Firmin, you wanted to catch him." Andre said. "Yours" retorted Firmin. "Viscomte De Chagny's" they chimed together.

Meg chuckled behind her hand. She knew that somehow they would rebuild and be better than ever. Well in the meantime she should make herself useful; with that she took her self off to find some small task she could perform.

The Phantom sat at his organ trying to think of words to go to the most recent song he just composed. His music was what was keeping him alive. He loved to listen the rich, magnificent, deep sound his organ made when he played it. Music filled him with pure joy, it made his blood flow like fire through his veins. When he first played his organ after Christine left the pain had been to much, the memories were still to vivid. But as time passed, his deep love for his music helped him overcome his fear of remebering Christine. And he played and composed and sang as he always had.

It had been almost a year since Madame Giry had saved him from death and from himself. Almost a year since he had seen Christine. She had been in his thoughts often; but he was starting to heal very slowly and forget her, forget what she had done to him, and that tragic night. His fingers moved swiftly over his beloved instrument as he sang:

Tragic love, the deepest pain of the heart
An affliction that rips apart the soul
Desperately looking desperately searching for relief
But it can not be found, forever in despair one abounds
Love was meant to be a shelter from the storm, a crag against the mighty wind.
It was meant to secure you a everlasting friendInstead tragic love tortures ones mind, heart and soul.
Like fire consuming, a rose that's bloomingSuddenly love takes hold, it will not let go
Whispering in my hear, grasping at my heart
From my love I wished never to part.
Instead of love I find hate
Instead of devotion, I find betrayal
Tragic love whispers seductively, tenderly
It makes one's soul take flight
Like music of the night
Its trap is very neatly laid
Before there is awareness, before the return of the senses
Its too late, your pulled into its dark orb
Don't want to live anymore
That is the story of tragic love

"That's Beautiful" a women's voice said aloud.

The phantom turned around quickly. " Who's there?" he growled. He saw a slight movement from the corner of his eye. Walking over to the gate, he saw a young lady. She had turned her face so that he couldn't see her. The phantom suddenly grabbed her by the harm, his grip was like iron. She let out a small cry of pain. She turned to face him, large frighten brown eyes stared at him. He recognized her immediately. " Your Madame Giry's daughter, aren't you?"

Meg cursed herself for being careless. "Yes. I'm Meg Giry.
" Why have you come here?" the phantom hissed as he released Meg's arm.
" I guessed my mother had been coming down here, I wasn't sure so I decided to find out." Meg was frightened. Why did I come down here? Meg you're a fool.
"Besides, I was curious." Meg added with a defiant tilt of her chin.

The phantom's blue eyed glittered dangerously." Oh, you were curious then"? About what?, the monster that hides in the shadows? Is that it? You've come to stare at the beast, have you?" The phantom knew he was shouting, he felt his anger rising. This impertinent, foolish young girl has no right down here! She could have got caught in one of the traps or lost, especially since he had changed many of the passage ways and set new traps. And she has the nerves to stare him straight in the eyes!. That thought surprised him. She wasn't afraid of him, nor was she scared to look at him, even if he had the mask on! He forced himself to calm down.

"That song, it is very nice, and your voice is lovely, no it is beautiful" Meg said gently. She knew she had upset him, and this was her way of making it better, besides, she was telling the truth. She like his deep, warm voice very much.

The phantom stood gaping at her. No one had ever praised anything he done or said.
What did she call my voice? Beautiful? No one has every said that to me. Perhaps I'm dreaming. This cant be real. But the pretty, little creature ,with those large lovely brown eyes, before him was very real. "Thank you" he finally managed to say. "Please Mademoiselle, would you care to sit?"
Meg could feel his eyes upon her. She new that he was shocked by what she said to him.
And now his staring was making her feel a little uncomfortable. " Yes I would take a seat, thank you". He guided her over near his organ.

Meg looked around the room, everything was almost the same as it was the night she came here with the mob.
The phantom pulled up a little French style chair. Meg sat down.
"You do know that the Opera Populaire is having auditions? To replace those that left after the fire" Meg asked.
The phantom blushed at the mention of the fire. He pulled at his suddenly too tight neck cloth. "Oh? And what positions are they seeking to fill?"

" Well, almost half the dancers left, so we need to replace them, and of course, we will be needing a Prima Donna.
Upon hearing the words, Prima Donna, the phantom's mind instantly raced back to Christine
He shifted lightly in his seat. Should i ask her about Christine? what good will it do? But i must know that she is happy.
"Mademoiselle, I know that you and Christine were very good friends; please tell me, have you heard from her? How is she?
The phantom looked at Meg desperately. Please tell me, I have to know.

Meg looked as if she could read his mind. "Christine wrote me twice since she left. She assured me that she is very happy. She asked about you. I told her that I believe you still haunt our opera." I was right, wasn't I" . Meg smiled at him brightly.

Meg watched him closely. She thought she saw a hint of a smile cross his features, maybe she just imagined it. His face,or what wasnt covered, was very handsome. She had seen him a few times before the fire, but that was always at a distance. This was the first time that she had been this close to him. Her heart was beating wildly. I would love to get to know him better. I know that he has been through alot, poor tortured soul. He is lonely. Perhaps, he will let me come back to visit...perhaps.

The phantom noticed that Meg was staring at him. That made him feel uncomfortable. He had to say something, anything, to keep her prying eyes off his face. He wasnt used to people being this close to him, even Madame Giry's hoovering over him will he recovered made him uneasy.
" So the auditions are next week, are they not?"
" Yes."
"They are having it early. I was sure the opera wouldnt be ready for atleast six months."
"Oh, well they want everyone properly trained and ready for the opening".
"That is understandable".
"Will you be coming?"
"Perhaps".

Meg rose to leave. " May I ask a favor of you"?

The phantom looked up at her with raised brows" Yes?"

"If it isnt to much... that is I ...I would like to know what to call you? I cant just call you Phantom."

"My name is Erik." he said as he rose.

"Erik" Meg repeated to herself. He told me his name. Well it is a start. I do hope i can get to know him better." It was nice meeting you Erik".

"My pleasure".

Erik watched Meg as she left the way she came. He would have to change that entrace, he couldnt take anymore chances.

I am glad though, that she did find her way down. She is a pleasant sort of girl.
Erik returned to his organ with a slight smile upon his lips.