Margeaux was giggling madly as she dashed to her dressing-room after the curtain call. "Hurry, hurry!" she cried to her maid, struggling out of her costume and into a nice dress. She tried not to squirm as the dressing-girl laced up her corset and helped her into the gown. She dismissed the girl and pressed a kiss to the mirror. "He should be here soon, Daddy," she whispered excitedly.

She stepped away from the mirror as it swung open. Erik pulled her into his arms. "Have fun, ma cherie," he murmured. "When do you think you shall be returning?"

She shook her head, breathless with excitement. "I don't know. But I'll come in on the Rue Scribe side, alright, Daddy?" She flashed the key she wore on a ribbon around her neck before tucking it back into her bosom.

He nodded slowly. "Be careful, ma belle. I'll wait for you. If you need anything..."

"Of course, Daddy." Margeaux grinned brightly and kissed his cheek. "Bye, Daddy Erik!" she exclaimed, turning and dashing from the room.

"Good bye, ma petite Margeaux." He turned away from the room, the mirror swinging closed behind him. He sighed, unable to leave the mirror. He didn't want to let his little girl go, but it was time to.

He tensed as the door edged open. "Erik?" a soft voice whispered. "I know you're here. I heard you, in your box. I heard you outside the door when I was worried about Marguerite. You're still here, aren't you? You're not dead. And she... she's wearing your ring."

He slid his mask back on – he'd gotten so used to Margeaux not caring about his appearance that the feel of his mask again was almost foreign. "What do you want, Daae? Are you here to stay, or simply tease me?" Erik growled. He turned in time to see Christine flinch at his rough voice. The fear in her eyes was enough to pierce his heart. He never meant her harm...

"Let her go, Erik. Doesn't she deserve a real life, not one relegated to the shadows like you've lived?"

Erik saw red at that. He opened the mirror, storming out. "Erik takes good care of his Margeaux! She wants for nothing!" he snapped. "Margeaux is well protected, and she loves Erik!"

"I loved you."

Those words were like a slap to the face. Erik stumbled back, as if it had been an honest physical blow. He sank into a chair. "You never loved me. You would have stayed."

Christine took a few steps closer. "I loved you, Erik. But I loved Raoul as well. I couldn't choose..."

Erik turned his face away from her. "Stop." That one word held years of pain.

Christine froze.

His hands clenched, Erik decided to go for a killing blow. His voice cold, he said, "Margeaux has no family other than me, Madame de Chagny."

Christine flinched – it was the first time since she'd returned to the Opéra Garnier that he'd recognized her marriage to Raoul.

"I would ask you not to take her away from me, Madame. She is well protected and has been spoiled her entire life. I have never and will never hurt her, and ask around the corps de ballet – no one lives to hurt her either. Among the ballet demoiselles, the mythos of l'Fantôme de l'Opéra is still strong. And should anyone harm petite Margeaux Destler, he will not live to see the light of day again." He turned away, back to the mirror.

"But... you haven't killed anyone, have you? Not in a long time." She sounded like she was trying to reassure herself, and it amused Erik.

Erik's lips twisted into a dark smirk behind his mask. "While you speak with the ballet demoiselles, ask about Javert Carrière." He disappeared behind the mirror.

Terrified, Christine stumbled from the dressing-room, fleeing the opera house.

XxXxX

Much later that night, Margeaux fell giggling into her bed. She had already kissed Erik goodnight and listened to his lullaby on the piano-forte. She sighed happily, pulling the token Giovanni had given her out of her sleeve. It was a simple little thing, really, just a delicate white handkerchief with his initials sewn in, but she adored it anyway. She slid it carefully into the top drawer of her nightstand, next to the music she's written as a child under Erik's teaching. She giggled again, sliding out of her dress. 'I hope Daddy doesn't mind him sticking around...' she thought to herself, before clambering into bed and letting Erik's music soothe her to sleep.

Halfway across town, Christine de Chagny paced her hotel room, annoyed at her husband and worried for Giovanni. He hadn't returned yet-

Just as the thought crossed her mind, the door quietly creaked open, the clicked shut. Giovanni was humming a soft melody that she instantly recognized. Christine went pale with terror. She gripped Giovanni's arm.

"Oh, I do apologize, Madame," he murmured. "I didn't mean to wake you."

She shook her head. "Be careful with that girl, Gio," she whispered to him. "She is not what she seems to be."

"I'm sorry, Madame? Margeaux seems to be a very nice, refined lady. Certainly a Parisian such as herself could not be hiding anything." His voice was warm. "Go on to bed, Madame, it is late. I am sorry for waking you." He turned away to the room he was sharing with Charles. "Oh, and Madame...? She said she would love to share tea with you this Saturday, as you asked."

Now, what could Madame de Chagny want with our petite Margeaux? Find out! Sorry it's taken so long~!