A/N: new chappie! enjoy!


Chapter 12: Husband and Wife

"No, no, no!" Namir snapped at Meg who winced slightly at her tone. "You are far too stiff! You did so well yesterday, Rakli!"

"I'm sorry," Meg sighed, then sniffled. "I'm a bit…distracted."

"I can tell," Namir nodded as Kaysar leaned on the wall of the alley the girls were practicing in. "What's happened? A fight with your husband?"

"No," Meg instantly replied, trying to decide how much she could trust this couple. Though they had shown her kindness, they were still gypsies after all, and her experience with them in France had not been forgotten. "My mother has gone back home, and I may not see her for some time."

"Family trouble is distracting," Kaysar nodded, crossing his arms in front of him. "But you have to learn that the world doesn't care what you're going through, only its own pleasures. Which means you must power through whatever you may be feeling."

"Now, Kaysar, you needn't be so hard on the girl," Namir objected.

"Why shouldn't I?" he shot back. "The world will be hard to her. And if she plans to live in a place like this, and do work like ours, then she'll have to grow a thicker skin."

"I'm not looking for sympathy," Meg reported, drawing their eyes to her as she met their gazes with a steady stare. "My husband and I…we've gone through much to get here. I may not be wise in the world, but I can learn. I'm a very quick learner."

Kaysar gave a scoff and shook his head as he smirked, "You think wisdom of the world can be taught? No, Rakli, it's experienced."

"So I will experience it!" Meg snapped back.

"I had a daughter once," he began, making her frown at him in wonder as Namir gave a small sigh. "She was just like you. Innocent but eager to learn…it's what got her killed."

Namir looked away with tears in her eyes as Meg stared at him in shock.

"Go back home to your husband," Kaysar told her. "You have no need for this life. If you're bored…take up a hobby. Dancing in the streets is not for someone like you, Rakli."

"It may not be for me, but it will keep me from losing my mind from boredom while my husband works to bring home money for us to live," Meg ground out before looking to Namir who stared at her in surprise at the little ballet dancer's sudden venom. "I am ready to resume my lesson, Madame."

Namir looked to Kaysar for guidance, only to stare at him in disbelief at the smirk over his lips. He looked to her and waved her on, wondering, "Well, what are you waiting for? Your student is waiting for your instruction."

"Y-Yes," Namir nodded before turning back to Meg who only glared at Kaysar for a moment before she looked to the other woman. "From the start, then."

Meg made her starting pose, and with a new serge of energy, fueled by her fury that Kaysar had lit, she began her new dance.


That Evening...

Meg hummed a cheer tune as she moved around the little apartment, finishing up with dinner before Erik returned.

She had felt so free once she had finished with Kaysar and Namir and they let her keep some of the money she had earned for her lessons to go shopping for dinner. She carefully retraced everything her mother had done, using the limited amount of English she knew to speak with the store owners and vendors to acquire what she needed. Once back in the apartment, she quickly began cooking, realizing the time and now knowing approximately what time Erik would return.

The sound of the doorknob being turned made her look to the door from setting the table just in time to see Erik sweep in with a tired sigh.

"Welcome home!" she called, rushing toward him to throw her arms around his neck, making him grunt as he caught her in his arms before he gave a chuckle. She pulled back enough to look up at him but didn't let him go, nor did he lower his arms from her as she grinned, "I've made stew for dinner. I hope you like it."

"I'm certain I will," he smiled, finally releasing her to pat her head with his free hand, his case in the other.

He chuckled again when she took a step back, her grin widening before she did a complete twirl then took his free hand to pull him toward the table to sit him down in one of the chairs.

"Sit here, and I'll serve you," she smiled, taking his case and setting it on the cot before heading for the kitchen.

"As a good wife should, yes?" he smirked before he gave a frown as he watched her walk away.

Something was different.

Over the years, as he had told her, he had watched her dance when no one else was around, and over the course of their interactions, he'd seen her walk, knew how she moved. However, watching her move around the kitchen now, something had changed. She was holding herself differently. It was subtle, but he noticed.

"Here you are, Monsieur Deveraux—Ah!" Meg gave a startled gasped when he gripped her wrist once she set the bowls down in front of him, making her meet his evaluating stare. "Erik, what's the matter?"

"What have you been doing, Meg?" he gently demanded, his gaze never wavering from hers and watching her closely when her eyes widened in a feeling he knew well: Panic.

"W-What do you mean?" she sputtered, starting to tremble, even under his firm grasp on her wrist. He wasn't hurting her, but he knew he had caught her at something. "I've been here, taking care of the cleaning, sewing and—"

"Do not think you can fool me, Little Giry," he warned in a low tone, cutting her off and making her trembling even worse. She wasn't afraid of him, per say…she was afraid she'd been caught. "I told you some time ago I observed you dance at the Populaire. I know how you move, petit danseuse. You are carrying yourself differently. You've been dancing…but differently from your usual ballet movements."

"E-Erik—"

"Choose your words carefully, Meg," he murmured, still grasping her wrist and now standing to loom over her. "I'll ask again: What have you been doing?"

Their gazes were locked and Meg swallowed hard, hearing her heart thumping in her ears and clapping her suddenly dry mouth. His gaze was fixed on her eyes, even as she pulled her lower lip between her teeth, nervously, her trembling never ceasing. He could tell she was doing as he said: Choosing her words carefully.

"I…" she trailed off for a moment before unsteadily resuming, "I was…learning a new dance."

"What sort of dance and from whom?" he questioned, irritably, making her swallow hard again. She knew his temper. He was not going to like the answer, but she couldn't lie to him now.

"It…It was a gypsy dance," she murmured, wincing slightly when his grip on her tightened a touch. "From…From the gypsies in an alley by the marketplace."

"Meg Giry! Did I not instruct you to stay away from them?!" Erik growled, releasing her from his grip by shoving it away, making her stumble back toward the cot and topple onto it. "What would you do with a dance like theirs?! I wager they extorted something from you of value! What was the arrangement?!"

"I…I was to dance to earn my lessons," she replied, quickly and felt her heart race in panic when his eyes widened in horror. "I earned enough money for them and to buy the ingredients for our dinner."

"And men gawked at you, no doubt, to use you as fodder for their sick fantasies while they spend the night alone in their beds!" Erik spat, balling his hands into fists before pacing the length of the table. "If I could hunt down every man that passed by the scene, I would kill every one of them with my bare hands! Did you not think of that?! Did you not realize that the world is made up of Joseph Bouquets and Richard Firmins and Giles Andres! Men who would have no qualms about stealing you away into a dark alley and doing all sorts of unspeakable things to you and yet, you go out and display yourself to them!"

"Erik, please—!"

"Your mother would kill me if she found you out there!"

"I know," she murmured, lowering her head as she sat on the cot, making him stop as he turned to stare at her in shock. She was suddenly docile…and he wasn't sure how he felt about that. "I'm sorry, Erik. I…I hadn't thought of all of that. I thought Kaysar and Namir were my friends. But…Kaysar told me himself that I know nothing of the world. It's true. I am naïve." She lifted her head and looked to him with wide, doe eyes, filled with tears, and shuddered, "I was being selfish. I only wanted to dance and be entertained while you were away. Do…Do you forgive me?"

Erik felt guilt pulling at his heart at the sight of her tears. He had known she was unhappy at the prospect of being cooped up while he was away but he didn't think she would go quite this far. However…he shouldn't have been so harsh on her. After all, he hadn't listened to her.

He gave a small sigh and stepped toward her, making her stare up at him as he stood over her, but she didn't flinch away from him. He lifted a hand and brushed a tear from one of her cheeks before sitting next to her on the cot.

"You are forgiven," he murmured, making her eyes widen in surprise, his temper cooling as suddenly as it had flared. "But promise me you will not go back to them, I beg you. I may have been enraged when I said those things just now, but it doesn't make them any less true."

"Yes, I know," she sniffled, wiping the rest of her tears away before looking to the table where their dinner sat. "The dinner has gotten cold. I should heat it up again."

"Meg," he called, taking her hand again as she stood, this time far more gently than before, making her turn to him in wonder. "Answer me. Promise me you'll stay away from there. We can find something for you to do while I am away, other than cleaning and cooking. I'm certain, in this land of opportunity as they say, there is something to keep you occupied."

She gave a small smile and sat down again to wrap her arms around his neck, hugging him close until he wrapped his arms around her in return.

"I promise, Erik," she whispered before burying her face into his shoulder. "I promise not to go back there. I'll…stay here if it's what you want."

"I cannot have you miserable, mon petit," he objected, both pulling back to meet each other's gazes. "I will not make the same mistake. I, too, was being selfish. We will find something for you. And every night, when I return, you will dance. I'll find a way to make music so that you can dance. Perhaps I can find a piano forte! There must be one at a decent price."

Meg couldn't help but smile at his sudden excitement at the prospect of finding an instrument to play. His eyes were alight, like a schoolboy upon hearing he was receiving a new toy.

"With your permission, perhaps tomorrow I can go shop for one, and have it here by the time you return?" she suggested.

"No, no, mon petit, I prefer to find my own instruments," he refused before meeting her gaze again and lifting his hands to cup her face in them, adding, "It's not that I don't trust your judgement in finding a perfectly good instrument. I have to feel the instrument myself."

"I understand," she nodded, taking his hands in hers and standing again. She leaned down and pressed a kiss to his cheek, murmuring, "I must warm our dinner. You must be starving."

"I am," he confirmed, releasing her as she made her way toward the table to take their bowls back to the kitchen.

He watched her move, noting everything that this new dance she'd learned had changed in her. He noted her newfound confidence. Oh, yes, he could tell she was far more confident than before, despite her meekness after he'd yelled at her. It wasn't just her confidence he'd noticed. He noticed her beauty. Something made his heart flutter as he watched her bustle around the kitchen to warm their food and bring it back to the table for them.

"Now, dear 'husband,' how was your day?" Meg smiled as she sat across from him at the table, startling him from his musings as he now sat at the table as well.

"Oh…yes," he sputtered before clearing his throat and straightening in his chair to start eating. "It seems Felix will be working on a project in this district. He refuses to tell me anything about it until we come to the site."

"How very mysterious," Meg smiled before she bit her lip when he took a bite of stew. Watching him closely, she asked, "Is it any good?"

"It's delicious, mon petit," he smiled in return before taking another bite. "I daresay you've outdone yourself. Your cooking is improving every day."

"Thank you," she murmured, a slight blush coming to her cheeks before she turned back to her food and resumed the conversation. "Has he said why he will not tell you about the project?"

"Not a word," he sighed, shaking his head. "And he seems to be taking joy in my confusion. We leave for the site tomorrow. Ah! Which reminds me, he wanted you to accompany us there."

"Truly?" she grinned again. "Yes! Of course I'll go with you! Perhaps I can be of some help, or—?"

"I don't think he meant it that way, mon petit," he chuckled. "The construction site is no place for a lady."

"And yet, he wants me there tomorrow?" she frowned in wonder.

"I doubt it will be for work," he shot back. "In any case, as I said, I'm unsure about why he wants you there. I'm unsure about the whole thing, and I don't like being unsure. Especially when it's something involving you."

"Erik, there are time when you truly do sound like a husband," she giggled, making him stare at her in astonishment as she only continued eating. "Oh, don't look so surprised. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if I start to sound like a wife, soon."

"You do," he blurted, making her eyes widen at him for a moment. Knowing there was no turning back after that statement, he swallowed hard, nervously before continuing, "You take very good care of me as a wife. You are very good at it."

The blush over her cheeks increased before she noticed they were finished and stood to clear the dishes away.

"I'll clear the table if you make the bed ready, 'husband,'" she smiled, sweetly.

"As you wish…'wife,'" he smirked, standing as well to do as she suggested.

Meg gave another small giggle before hurrying toward the kitchen to clean up. When she returned she found Erik pulling off his boots, having already removed his jacket and waistcoat. However, he still wore his mask. She gave a small sigh and made her way toward him, catching his attention as he looked up at her with a slight frown beneath his mask.

"I thought we agreed, you don't have to wear this when you're here," she murmured, gently as she took slid the mask from his face. Erik reflexively but gently gripped her wrist after she'd pulled his mask off and he stared up at her, looking completely lost. Meg smiled as she lifted her free left hand and pressed it against his deformity, making his eyes flutter shut with a sigh. "I told you, it doesn't bother me."

"Old habits, little one," he replied, opening his eyes and releasing her wrist, but slipped the mask from her hand to set it aside, her other hand still stroking his cheek.

"Then I'll help you break it," she smiled, making him frown in wonder. "As soon as you step through that door, when I welcome you, I'll take off your mask and kiss your cheek, like so…"

She leaned down and moved her hand to replace it with her lips, making his breath hitch and his heart leap before his wide-eyed stare of disbelief meet her own, warm smile when she stood tall again.

"Meg," he breathed, afraid that if he said anything more he would burst into tears.

She heard all his emotion in that one syllable of her name and still smiled as she lifted the mask and setting it on the table while he still stared at her.

"Let's get to bed," she murmured, blowing out the few candles that lit the room before sitting next to Erik on the bed. "We have a big day tomorrow, do we not?"

Erik could only nod before they both laid down and she instantly snuggled up to him, making him hesitantly wrap his arms around her. It had been a few nights since they'd slept in the same bed, but she seemed to take to it like a fish to water. He wished he could be as comfortable. The cot really didn't leave any room for anything else but snuggling and it made him make a mental note to get a very big bed for the home he would build for them.

"After tomorrow, I'll start making more clothes for us," she murmured, snuggling her cheek even closer against his chest. "I'll need to take your measurements when we come back."

"Very well," he replied, smoothing a hand over her arm as it was wrapped around his stomach. "Do you know how to take measurements for a man?"

"I used to watch the costumers and seamstresses at the opera take measurements for the players," she smiled. "I think I can manage."

"How very clever you are, Little Giry," he smiled in return, taking a chance and pulling her slightly closer to press a kiss to her forehead.

"I see Alexander's nickname has caught on," she sighed, making him chuckle as he began to relax again.

"Don't you like it?" he wondered, knowingly.

"Sometimes," she yawned. "Only sometimes. I think I like it better when you call me that more than Alexander, though."

"And why is that?"

"You don't say it mockingly, the way Alexander does."

"I would never mock you, mon petit."

"Thank you," Meg sighed, tiredly and Erik could tell she was starting to fall asleep. "I know you're a good man, Erik. Whatever anyone says…you're still good."

"And you're falling asleep," he smirked, hearing her breathing start to deepen. "You don't know what you're saying."

"Yes…I do," she sighed before drifting off completely to sleep and making him scoff before he shifted his head to rest his cheek on her forehead.

"Sleep well, Meg," he whispered. "At least one of us can."


France...

"Madame Giry!" Christine sighed in relief as she threw her arms around the older woman as they stood in the threshold of the de Chagny chateau. "I'm so glad you're back! Of course, I knew Capitaine Newton wouldn't hurt you, but where have you been all this time?"

"I've been in America," Antoinette replied, but stopped herself from saying any more, making Christine frown at her in wonder. Sensing she wanted to say more she glanced took her hand and pulled her through the door toward the drawing room. "Raoul is away on business and won't be back for days. It's just me here with the servants." They sat in one of the sofas as she took both of Antoinette's hands in hers. "Be assured, I'll tell him nothing of what we speak of tonight."

Antoinette nodded before sighing, tiredly and a bit sorrowfully, replying, "I was staying…with Erik and Meg."

Christine's eyes shot wide as her grip tightened on the other woman's hands before she asked, "Are they well?"

"Perfectly," Antoinette nodded with a small smile. "Alexander has given them a place to stay. And Raoul? Has he given up on finding Erik?"

"Unfortunately, no," Christine sighed, slumping slightly. "Now he believes he is still in Europe somewhere, if not the Americas. He will not give up, Madame, and it's frightening me. I only wished to go with him and live out the rest of my life with him, but now…he's taken to slaying a dragon for me that is no longer a threat."

"Are you still afraid of Erik, now?" Antoinette wondered and Christine swallowed before taking a deep breath as she thought for a moment then shook her head.

"I think, because I know that Meg is not afraid of him…I am now, no longer afraid of him," she admitted.

"Have you told Raoul that you are no longer afraid?" Antoinette asked.

"I told him to stop—"

"No, Christine, you must tell him you are no longer afraid of him," Antoinette cut in, firmly. "If he believes you are still thinking of him, even in fear, he will not stop."

Christine took her lower lip into her teeth and nodded in understanding before murmuring, "I am so sorry about all of this, Madame. I know…it's all my fault."

"It is no one's fault, Christine," Antoinette assured her. "Everything that happened was out of everyone's control."

Christine swallowed before giving another nod and looking away in thought before murmuring, "Are they happy there?"

"As happy as they can be, I suppose," Antoinette replied. "As long as Meg is happy, that is all I care about."

"Perhaps she will decide to return to France one day?" Christine wondered.

"Perhaps," Antoinette nodded, but recalled the look in Meg's eyes when she would look at Erik and added, "I doubt that, however."

"Why?" Christine frowned.

Antoinette sighed, almost sadly and murmured, "I think Meg is not afraid of Erik…because she is in love with him."


A/N: reviews?