Disclaimer: Still don't own it!

AN: Thank you to my two reviewers LY and Maska. This chapter is dedicated to them for taking the time to review!

Please read and review everyone! Thank you!

Chapter 2

He's Here! The Phantom of the Opera!

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I was awakened rather rudely when the sensation of biting cold flooded my senses. I gasped and sat bolt up right. I was soaking wet with ice-cold water dripping off my face. I blinked the water out of my eyes and looked around. I was on the floor of the Phantom's lair, presumably right where I had passed out, and the Punjab Lasso had been removed from my neck. It looked as if the Phantom had tried to clean up the destruction the mob had made but gave up half way through. The Phantom stood over me; he had cleaned the dirt and tears off his face and replaced the white porcelain mask. I couldn't help but scowl at the fact that he'd almost killed me over a mask that he had plenty more of. My gaze lowered to his hands, and in them was a wooden bucket with a little bit of water dripping out of it.

"Oh good, you're awake." The Phantom smirked and cocked his eyebrow at me. Swine.

I plastered a big, fake smile on my face and said, "Yes, thank you for that… shocking wake up. I would have thought that there'd be easier ways to go about it rather than drenching me with ice cold water, but I guess I was wrong." I sent him a nice, appreciating glare.

He just tilted his head at me and said, "Indeed."

I suddenly felt very vulnerable with him towering over me. I jumped to my feet just a little too quickly and swayed as a dizzy spell came over me. I put my hand to my head and closed my eyes. 'How long have I been down here?' I thought.

"Three hours or so." The Phantom's voice was detached. I snapped my eyes open. 'Did I just say that out loud?'

"Yes, you did." Not again. The Phantom walked passed me and placed the bucket on a chair with only three legs. I suppressed a groan as I turned myself to face him fully.

I opened my mouth to say something, but whatever I was going to say died on my lips as my eyes strayed over his shoulder to a mirror that was cracked, but still in one large piece. There in the looking glass was me looking noticeably ragged and rather like a drowned mouse. Most of my hair had come out of the low ponytail it had been in and was in tangles with clumps of dirt in it. My face also was smudged with dirt, and I grimaced as I heard my mother's voice in my ears. "Marguerite! What a disgrace!" As my eyes wandered lower I noticed a red mark going around my neck. I shoved passed the Phantom and pulled my damp shirt away from my neck to get a better look. I was so close to the mirror that my nose would have touched it if I had gotten any closer. I examined the mark around my neck with vexation. It was a rope burn from the lasso, and it had the lightest of bruises starting to show. 'It'll only get worse before it gets better,' I thought. I watched the Phantom through the mirror; his eyes were lingering on the burn around my neck. His eyes betrayed him; he was astounded at my injury, as if he had never really realized what he's capable of. Outrage surged through me. He had done this to me all because of some stupid mask. And he had others of the same mask! Oaf.

"Monsieur, you really should learn to control that temper, especially after such trivial things." I stated as calmly as I could. My back was still facing him and I was talking to him though the mirror as I still examined my neck. His eyes flashed, but before I could identify with what, they had become impartial once again.

"Why, mademoiselle, I think that lack of oxygen to your brain has caused permanent damage," he sneered at this. "For this, mademoiselle," he raised his arm and lightly touched the mask on his face, "is no trivial thing."

I stood up straight and still talking to him through the mirror said, "No, monsieur, if you have more than one of those white masks," my voice took on the tone of a challenge. I leaned toward the mirror and began to wipe the dirt off my face, "than you can afford to have one broken, therefore making it…" I stood straight up again, leaving the rest of the dirt still on my face alone, "trivial."

In a flash he had crossed the eight or so feet between us and spun me around. I tried not to flinch as he grasped my upper arms painfully. 'There'll be bruises there tomorrow.'

'That's if you get to see tomorrow.' My conscious mentioned cynically.

'Oh, be quiet!' I thought with annoyance.

"You're arrogance, mademoiselle, will get you killed one day." He hissed not inches from my face. His eyes held a dangerous glint to them, but I raised my chin defiantly ready to say some retort. But the words never left my mouth as the Phantom's eyes fell to my neck and the dangerous gleam in his eyes vanished. He shoved me against the mirror and took a few steps back. Confusion flashed across his face before he covered it with a mask of disinterest. He straightened up as though trying to shake the confusion off. "I think, mademoiselle, that it is time for you to return to your mother. I'm sure she has been missing you."

At the mention of my mother I remember the world above; the real world. I also remember about Christine and that she could be dead. "I'm not leaving without Christine." I put as much strength in my voice as I could. Trying to tell him that I wasn't afraid of him, or his Magical Lasso.

Something resembling hurt passed over his face at the mention of Christine, before he said with callousness, "No need to worry about her, mademoiselle, for Christine," he spit out her name as if it was poison, "has already left." I opened my mouth to respond with some bold reply, but the words died right on my tongue as what he said registered in my mind.

"…What?" I couldn't help but question, whether to myself or to him I wasn't sure, but he answered me all the same.

"Indeed, mademoiselle, " the tone in his voice was noticeably chilly, "she rode away with her knight in shining armor."

I was baffled by this turn of events. "Well, ah… good for… her." I could have slapped myself for saying something so stupid. I'm sure he could have slapped me too. A tense silence fell over us after my idiotic comment.

The Phantom stood very rigid until after a moment he let out a humorless chuckle, and said very dryly, "Yes, may she live happily ever after." And as though to say the conversation was over, he turned and walked away with a sweep of his cloak." I trust, mademoiselle," he said while he organized some books that had been thrown around during the raid from the mob, "that you can find your own way back."

I whirled around to give the lake a contemptuous glance. The memory of that fish still very fresh in my mind. While I was envisioning being eaten alive by a hideous fish, the Phantom had turned his head to me expectantly, "Well, mademoiselle, can you make it back on your own?" He asked again with growing annoyance in his voice.

I turned back around to him, "Isn't there another way out of this place?" I asked feebly, my strength was fading, and the thought of dealing with more fish was making my knees shake.

"What's the matter? Afraid you'll drown in knee deep water?" The Phantom ridiculed.

"No, it's just that—" I started but the Phantom didn't want to hear my excuse.

"Well then, mademoiselle, since you seem to have no problem why don't you get out." The Phantom started to walk away, but I wasn't going to face that fish again unless I had to.

"But, are you sure that there's no—"

"I said, mademoiselle, GET OUT!" I jumped at the Phantom's outburst and started to back up as the Phantom advanced on me. But I didn't get very far, the Phantom was before me in a second, and grabbing me by the upper arms he shoved me into the lake. "GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!" He roared and I did just what he said. I got up and ran as fast as I could across the ice-cold lake, having had my fair share of the Phantom to last me a lifetime and wanting nothing more than to be rid of this fish infested water.

As I reached the opposite shore I heard the sound of breaking glass as the Phantom broke what could only be another mirror.

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I felt a surge of satisfaction as I watched the last of my mirrors shatter into a thousand little pieces. Damn that Giry! Damn me for losing control of my temper! Damn, damn, DAMN!

I scanned what was left of my lair. Everything that I owned was destroyed. Everything except my organ, that is. If only that stupid little Giry hadn't stopped that senseless mob from destroying it. With Christine gone the only thing I had left to live for was my music, and that stupid little Giry had saved my organ. She had left me a reason to live.

Stupid girl.

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AN: Please read and review, guys! I want to know what everyone thinks of this story! You can tear it apart if you like, just review! Please? Pretty please? With sugar on top?

Maska: I just wanted to thank you for pointing out my language problem, I went back a re-edited the modern stuff. And on the whole 'Erik would know whom Meg' is thing, thanks for pointing that out too, in my head I knew that he knew who she was, I just forgot to write it down. Hehe… I went back and threw in some mentions of her mother, but I figure Erik not calling Meg by her name or last name makes him seem more cold and detached. Thanks for your review again!

Please review, everybody!

BeyondtheSea!