Disclaimer: The words in italics in this chapter are borrowed from the song "Papa can you hear me?" as seen in Yentl performed by Barbra Streisand. Although when I wrote this story I listened to (and gained inspiration from) Michael Crawford's version from the album 'A touch of music in the night' and Meg speaks them in the story instead of singing them.


Chapter 7: Papa can you hear me?

Meg was scared when she looked at the huge marble staircase that led to the place she must now call home. She wore her church dress a pale blue ensemble that was slightly worn but did not need mending, her hair was slightly tied back in the vibrant blue ribbon the friend called Erik had given her. The silver cross lay long on her neck and swung with every step she took. Her hand trembled in her mother's hand, "Do not be frightened Marguerite, this is our home now." Meg swallowed hard, nodded and tried to stop the trembling of her hand.

The pair were lead to the room that would be Julienne's by a stagehand who brusquely nodded in response to their thanks; he also showed them the ballerina dormitories where Meg would reside. She brushed imaginary lint off of the gray blanket that covered her bed and counted nineteen other similar ones. Her mother had told her to think of it as having a large amount of sisters but Meg felt her stomach clench as she remembered how the village children complained about their sisters stealing precious toys, letters, and knick knacks.

"Mama why can't I stay with you?" Meg pleaded.

"Because, you are now a student ballerina at the Opéra de Paris it is proper for students to live in the dormitories, I lived in them myself until I was Prima Ballerina."

Meg dolefully nodded her head but refused to leave any of her precious items out in the open in the dormitory instead she kept it locked away in her small trunk in her mother's room.

The days were long, her legs and feet would ache unendingly from the practices in which her mother's cane pounded out an unrelenting beat. The lessons and practices were long, lasting for hours at a time and it took all Meg had in her small body to keep from collapsing. She was the youngest of all the student ballerinas who lived and were taught at the opera house. She was seven while the others ranged from the ages of nine to eleven, Monsieur Lefèvre spoke his concern of Julienne pushing her small daughter to the brink of her physical ability but Julienne's only answer was a cold stare.

Julienne realized that she pushed Meg too hard sometimes, but it was the only way her daughter would smile. After Phillipe had died, so did a piece of Meg, that piece of her that would light up with laughter, would smile at the small and simple things of life and would glow with life. The only time Julienne saw a hint of this was when Meg danced, only when her small body was trembling and tears filled her eyes did Julienne see the ghost of the smile that once graced her cherub face. She never questioned why it made her daughter happy, for she heard Meg when she would unconsciously whisper "Papa" as she fiddled with the silver cross on her neck. The girl danced for her father, and that was enough, for now.

The nights were the longest. Meg would awake drenched in sweat clutching the sheets closely to her body as she fought back screams as the day her father died flashed vividly through her mind.

The fifth night this happened Meg crept into the hallway slowly feeling her way in the darkness that surrounded her. Her hand hit the cool metal of the stair railing and she breathed a sigh of relief, she had finally reached the stairs that lead to the roof. Meg followed the railing carefully as her eyes slowly adjusted to her surrounding darkness. She held her breath for she knew severe punishment awaited her if she was caught.

She stopped when her hand felt air at the end of the railing and she hesitantly reached out to test for the door, her hand clenched as she felt the cool metal of the door knob. She pulled it open quickly breathing in the deep and cool air of the outside world.

She danced across the roof of the Opera House as a light laugh briefly escaped from her upturned lips. The stars blinked down at her from the silky night sky and she stood transfixed for a moment trying to recall where Orion stood, the one constellation she remembered her father teaching her. Meg searched the sky desperately for the constellation and when it seemed futile she saw his belt, glittering joyfully above the lights of Paris and she smiled in triumph.

The cold air bit at Meg's hands, it brought her back to reality her sapphire eyes filled with tears that slowly spilled down her cherub cheeks.

"Papa can you hear me?" she whispered to the silent night.

"Papa can you see me?" she slowly edged away from the door, her hands slowly encircling her silver amulet. Her slow shuffle stopped mid-step as she jumped in fear at a menacing shadow that loomed in her path.

"Papa can you help me not be frightened?" Her small voice seemed to echo across the vast expanse of darkness that lay before her. She jumped as a warm breeze caressed her cheek and a hollow "yes" vibrated in the air around her.

Meg glanced around fearfully at her surroundings but drew courage from the necklace that hung from her neck, if she went back to bed only nightmares would follow.

"Looking at the skies I seem to see a million eyes, which ones are yours? Where are you now?" Meg's small voice trembled as she gazed up into the stars.

"The world is so much darker," she whispered to the blinking stars, "the wind is so much colder, the world I see is so much bigger… now that I'm- now that I'm alone." Her legs gave out beneath her and her small body landed hard onto the roof, it shook with untold sorrow as the tears she fought so hard to keep in came leaking out.

Beneath a gilded statue a shadowy figure gasped as he watched the small girl tumble into a heap, he watched helplessly as her sobs became louder amplified by the cold wind that surrounded him. His golden eyes flicked to the shadows surrounding her and made a decision of a lifetime, he stepped closer.

Erik slowly slid from the shadows that hid him, drawn by the girl's torturous sobs and the strange need to comfort her. He tried to be silent, to blend inconspicuously with the shadows but his limbs would not obey and they drew the girl's attention. She stared blindly into the darkness, as she tentavily reached out a small hand. "H-hello?" she called out.

Erik stood frozen, his cape swirled silently in the light breeze as he tried to calm his traitorous heart that seemed to echo across the distance between him and this small girl who stood bathed in the moonlight.

"Is anyone there?" Meg asked. When her only answer was silence she sat down upon the same spot she had collapsed only a few minutes ago.

"My name is Magueirte Giry." She looked back into the darkness and Erik's breath stopped short sure she had seen him.

"I am seven years old." She continued, and punctuated her statement by holding up seven fingers. "My mama and I came here more than a week ago, from Dieppe, she is the ballet instructor. She is the only one who calls me Maguirite, everyone else calls me Meg. You could, if you would just come out." She stared pointedly at the darkness.

Erik swallowed against the tightening of his throat and tried to force himself back into the shadows he had come from but felt himself drawn into the light of the moon, into the presence of a girl seven years younger than him, a girl who was Julienne's child, a girl who would let him call her Meg.

Meg smiled as the sound of shuffling came closer, somehow she did not feel as frightened as she first had and waited impatiently for the stranger to make their appearance.

Erik quickly combed a hand through his hair and adjusted his mask as he took one last breath for courage and walked out into the light waiting for cruel laughter or a harsh scream.

Meg did neither but simply sat studying him. Her eyes lingered for only a second on his strange mask and then settled on his golden eyes.

"I see you are a Venetian." Was the first thing she said to him.

Erik stood in shock for a moment, "A Venetian?"

Meg nodded decidedly, "Of course Monsieur, my Papa told me Venetian's always wear masks. He went to Venice once, and brought my mama back a beautiful mask. We had to sell it though." She raised her hands quickly to her eyes.

Erik nodded a frown replacing his hesitant smile as he realized she had begun crying again. "Your Papa, he is very special to you." He stated.

"He was," Meg whispered, her hand tugging at her cross.

Taking a small step forward Erik frowned, "Was? Has he passed away?"

Meg nodded again, a stifled sob escaping her throat. "I- I – Oh, it is all my fault monsieur! I only wanted to see what the ocean looked like since it was so quiet and then… then he died! I killed him."

Erik froze at the small girl's sudden confession; he did not know how to comfort her and was stunned by her sudden confession. "Meg," he said crouching down so he could see her small face. "Your Papa did not die because of you; no he gave his life for you so you may live."

Her tears seemed to slow down at his statement and she suddenly beamed at him. "Yes monsieur, I will try to think about it as you do."

Erik raised an eyebrow at her sudden change in emotions silently questioning the girl's sanity.

Meg's eyes went wide as she realized she had poured so much of her emotions out. "I'm sorry, I forgot my manners." She mumbled as she stuck out her hand. "You can call me Meg, and I will call you?"

"E-erik." The young boy stammered as he stuck out his own hand which was quickly grasped and shaken vigorously by the girl.

Meg looked up at the young man and paused in thought. "My mama has a friend named Erik," she said letting go of his gloved hand. "He lives in Paris, and he gave me this ribbon for my hair." Meg's blue eyes narrowed, "I bet you're him!"

Erik stood frozen at the accusation, she was most certainly Julienne's daughter, with her keen accusations and sudden mood changes, and that was the problem, Julienne. He remembered her promise of punishment if she heard of even a glimpse of him in the opera house Erik knew that promise would stand true even if it was her own daughter who saw him. So Erik did the first thing that came to him, he lied.

"I-I do not know your mother, you're mistaken." He said gruffly turning on his heel to leave. A small hand clutching his cloak stopped him.

"I may be young Erik, but I am not stupid." Meg replied fire burning deeply in her angelic eyes.

"I disagree, you are only seven Marguerite, barely even a child how can you not be stupid?" His heart tightened as a blush quickly ran up her neck to her cheeks.

"I was taught by my papa!" she shouted stomping her foot down in anger, "He taught me everything and I know you are my mama's friend Erik!"

Erik turned to her, "Prove it."

Meg looked him directly in the eye and nodded determinedly, "I will simply go ask her." She held his gaze a few seconds longer and ran across the roof to the door which she struggled briefly to open and disappeared into the darkness of the opera house.

"Mon Dieu, between Meg and Julienne I will surely die before the year is finished." Erik muttered into the darkness of the Parisian night sky.


First I wold like to thank everyone for their reviews and story alerts, it made me so glad to see that this story has not been forgotten.

Well, this was the chapter long awaited for, the meeting of Erik and Meg. I hope this chapter lived up to your expectations, I waver between loving it and being completely unsure. From now on most, if not all chapter will have interaction between the two.

Thanks for reading!

-LifesDarkFire