Disclaimer: shakes magic 8 ball Do I own the Phantom rights? And the magic 8 ball says: Heck no!
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Wheezing and coughing, Madame Giry ascended the final step and came out backstage, leaning heavily against her cane. Meg was getting too close, and unknowingly putting herself in danger. Madame Giry could still hear him at night sometimes, crying out in his despair. Ever since Christine's death, he'd been in a deep depression, most likely blaming himself for the unfortunate events.
"Madame Giry?"
The older woman turned her head and offered a smile of greeting to one of her dance pupils, Claire. She was little younger than Meg, and had come to the Opera House a year ago after running away from her home. Now Madame Giry didn't usually accept runaways, but in Claire's case, the girl's parents had made no attempt to find her. Plus she had shown quite a talent for dance. Claire and Meg had grown close in the past year, and Madame Giry watched this friendship grow with a smile, hoping that Meg's heart would heal after Christine.
"Yes my dear?"
Claire returned the smile and stepped forward closer to her dance instructor.
"I was looking for Meg, have you seen her?"
Madame Giry paused, wondering for a moment if it would be a wise move to tell Claire where Meg was. Then she would have to deal not only with her own daughter's curiosity, but with Claire's as well. The dancers had a tendency to talk among themselves, natural for girls of their age. But Madame Giry could not afford to have her entire ballet in that room.
"I'm sorry Claire, but I haven't seen her. Perhaps she went out for an errand."
When one of her students turned eighteen, Madame Giry allowed her to venture outside the Opera House for short times. Meg had reached this important milestone a few months ago, and so occasionally went out into town. Claire nodded pleasantly but was visibly disappointed.
"Thank you Madame, I shall wait for her return."
Seeking rest for her weary frame, Madame Giry headed towards her room, her mind ablaze with thoughts. Claire watched her teacher go, her curiosity building by the second. She'd seen Meg just a few minutes ago headed this way, and her traveling cloak was still hanging neatly upon its' hook. That could only mean that Meg was still inside, and that Madame Giry was either telling the truth, or she was hiding something. The moment that Meg's mother rounded the corner, Claire began to inch towards the door that concealed wherever the older woman had just come from. Really it was none of her business, but curiosity was a strong emotion, too strong for Claire to keep in check. She leaned against the door, pushing her weight against it until it swung open to reveal a steep set of stairs. Without a moment's second thought she began to descend down into the basement of the Opera House. This was where the Phantom had lived, and Claire thought it might be fun to explore it now that he was gone. It took a much shorter time for Claire to reach the bottom and the entryway to the little room.
Unknowing that she was about to have company, Meg was fighting a curiosity battle of her own. She'd been through the mirror once before, the night after Christine's first show. But she'd only gotten a few feet down the tunnel behind the double-sided pane of glass before her mother had stopped her. How Madame Giry had found her, Meg had yet to figure out. But this was her chance to figure out what exactly was down there. She had to do it, there wasn't any other options. With a slightly shaky hand she pulled back against the mirror, which stuck for a moment before sliding roughly open, revealing the dark passageway. Feeling a sudden closeness to what Christine must have felt, Meg walked through the opening. As it had been the last time, the passageway was dark and dreary. She could hear what she could only hope was water dripping from the ceiling, forming small puddles on the stone floor. Meg avoided the few left slightly visible, but still succeeded in stepping in several of them, dousing her ballet flats. The path slowly winded downwards, and Meg wrapped her arms around herself to keep from shivering. The simple white dress she wore was no nearly enough to keep her body temperature level, and Meg now understood why the Ghost had been so mean; he was probably cold!
She'd gone further now then she had gotten before, and as she rounded a corner, another step of steep stairs spiraled downwards into darkness. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all. She didn't even have a candle to go by. Hesitantly she took a step forward, surprised when her foot hit solid ground. She'd half expected to fall through into the same dark abyss that Raoul and Christine had gotten trapped in. But her foot rested gingerly on the step, and she could feel its' coldness seeping through the bottom of her damp ballet flats. The temperature had dropped a good ten degrees since she'd descended the passageway, and she could no longer hold back her shivers. One by one she continued down the steps, each one down was a bit less hesitant. Meg was afraid though of becoming too confident. Had she looked over her shoulder at this moment, Meg would have seen the hand reaching towards her out of the darkness, fingers extended. The cold brush of the foreign skin against her own scared Meg and she jumped, her mouth open in a scream that didn't echo far enough upwards to be heard by the rest of the Opera House.