A/N: Apparently it takes being sick in the midst of a mini ice storm on a national holiday in order for me to update. I'm really sorry, this chapter was mostly written a month ago but I was stuck working so much overtime that I didn't get a chance to finish it and post it. A thousand apologies, but thanks for sticking with my story as it is much appreciated.
Meg hated leaving Erik all alone in his dark prison, and hated even more the fact that he had to remain restrained. "If he were not fastened to the wall he could surely find a way to escape. I can't have him seek me out to kill me again."
It had been three weeks since he attempted her murder, but she diligently strode the long narrow hallway three times daily in order to feed him and keep him company. She was still very angry over the altercation, but found that her undying devotion never waned when it came to his care. It also afforded her the chance to diminish her loneliness she'd felt since they'd last shared a bed together in her home.
"My home?" she thought with a smirk. "I suppose it is my home right now. Perhaps Erik will someday repent for his actions and if I believe that he's sincere in his apology, then perhaps I could reconsider our cohabitation arrangement."
Meg had been so bored of late without much to occupy her time. Each day was spent cleaning and cooking, but with the remaining time of the day there was little stimulation that could keep her mind off of her prisoner. She would practice her dance steps or try to read a book, but Erik and the child that she hoped she carried were all that seemed to fill her brain. She would have to wait at least a few more weeks before she knew for certain and still she prayed each night for a blessed child in her arms to call her own. She still possessed much of the wealth that Erik had amassed in his years living in the opera house and with that she would purchase furniture and other items necessary to raise a child.
"The possibility remains that I might not be pregnant and I can't get my hopes up if that is the case. If I am not with child by Erik then I might need to resort to any other means necessary to get myself impregnated. But I really want to have a child by him," she reflected sadly.
The questions regarding Erik's possible paternal involvement also filled her mind. She knew she was getting ahead of herself since she did not know for certain, but what would he do if she really was expecting?
"I couldn't possibly get my hopes up that he'd want this child. We've only made love a handful of times and it took mother two years to conceive me. If I am with child, when would be the appropriate time to tell Erik? If I am not, what is to become of us?"
Meg's head began to pound from the aggravation of her thoughts. In an effort to distract herself from the wild concoctions of her imaginary domestic lifestyle, she decided to take a little extra spending money and treat herself to a new dress and shoes. "I'm feeling pretty low at the moment so I have a right to treat myself to some beautiful things."
She donned the brown curly wig that had belonged to Christine's faux likeness, though she'd since punched a hole in the mannequin's wax face and dismembered the limbs from a previous fit of rage. Meg hated having a need to wear the fake hair all the time, feeling very similar to how Erik must feel when he went to the surface, but she needed an alias so as not to risk being detected by the authorities, or worse, her mother. She pulled on the wool cloak and hood, even though warm weather had already started it's late April approach, and strode quickly though the tunnels. She did not bother to stop and see Erik, knowing that she would be distracted and stay with him, and she soon emerged in a Parisian back alley.
Her appearance was rather humble and Meg knew that the boutiques would probably snicker and look down on her, though it did not deter her from her desire for a pretty, feminine dress to brighten her spirits. "My wardrobe is only full of dark colors and itchy wool. It'll be nice to wear something like pink or yellow or lavender again."
The bells chimed merrily on the door as she entered one small shop and smiled at the young woman behind the counter. She was kind and did not appear to condescend over Meg, something for which she was appreciative.
"If you would be so kind, could you assist me with a nice dress? I'm afraid that living in the countryside does not allow me the luxury of such fine guys as you can see," Meg said as she indicated her drab brown skirt and dingy blouse that at one time had been white. "I recently received a sum of money through an inheritance and I decided to indulge myself in some Parisian shopping."
"Well I'm pleased that you've chosen our little establishment. My name is Marguerite," replied the kindly young woman. She couldn't have been much older than Meg herself, but stood taller and had brown hair twisted ornately at the back of her head.
Meg nodded but resumed her lie, not wanting her true identity to be revealed. "I am Elise," she said plainly but with a smile. Marguerite beamed again and began to browse through the ready-made dresses before allowing "Elise" to sort through the fabrics.
"They are so lovely," Meg muttered as she traced her hand over a bundle of yards of peach silk with embossed flowers.
"Of course we can custom design a dress if you have a specific style and color that you desire," offered the shopkeeper.
Meg turned away, not wanting the added expense and delay. She was lucky to find a store with a few dresses in stock, as most boutiques were only custom order. From the rack she selected a powder blue dress with a modest bust line and off the shoulder sleeves, each adorned with a small bow. Marguerite led her to the pedestal where she would do minor alterations to the dress before it was finally purchased. Despite the fact that she was not short, the gown was still a little long on Meg, so Marguerite happily chatted away as her customer stared blankly at the mirror.
"Do you have a gentleman?" Marguerite inquired cheerfully.
"What?" Meg asked, startled from her daydream.
"A suitor. Here I am chatting away about me when I have not been kind enough to ask you about yourself."
"Oh yes, I do have a suitor. His name is Erik."
"That's nice. What does he do? Have you any plans to marry?"
Meg didn't know how she should respond to the questions, but was grateful to have someone else to talk to. "Erik is an architect, though I think his passion is with music. I do not know about any marriage plans as we are still just growing to know each other."
"Well so long as he treats you right then I hope the best for the two of you. You're such a lovely girl, though, that if things do not work out then you will be able to attract any man in this city!" Both women smiled at each other in the mirror and Meg was happy that she had decided to make the impulse purchase, even if it just led to interaction with another human being. "I am done pinning this," Marguerite continued. "Would you like for us to keep it overnight and we can shorten the hem?"
"Thank you but no, I am very eager to leave with this dress tonight. I will fix it when I return home." Meg hastily paid for the garment and scurried from the store, eager to mend and wear her lovely new frock.
Erik had been sitting on the damp stone floor, angrily scribbling away in his private notes before he heard Meg stroll down the hall, presumably with his supper.
"Three weeks I have been trapped within this God forsaken Hell. As the Phantom I could wander the halls as I pleased on every level of the facility, and now I am trapped within this rock and iron space, my only contact being with the crazy daughter and kidnapper of my former friend. How long will I have to live like this?"
Tears of desperation stung Erik's eyes as he finished writing the passage. His fingers ached from the lengthy entry, but pain could be felt everywhere in his body. The large bump on the back of his head had long been healed but his legs were stiff from his inability to rise higher than a crouch. His entire backside was sore from sitting so long on a hard surface and from being leaning on an uneven wall. His childhood had been rough, but he realized that over the years he had taken advantage of fine sheets, indoor water plumbing and most especially his ability and freedom to play music. Even his golden voice sounded hoarse and dull within these confines and he refused to sing another note for the duration of his imprisonment.
Erik heard the familiar footsteps of Meg's boots and was just a little bit happier for the food that she'd bring. He had never realized that she could cook since she had grown up here in the opera house, but apparently Antoinette had taught her well. Thank God for small mercies.
Meg almost looked angelic as she appeared from around the stone wall. Her long hair was kept down for a change and the rustle of her fine blue dress was heard instead of the coarseness of her usual wool attire. Erik noted the periwinkle shade matcher her eyes perfectly and complimented her fair features.
"Playing dress up today?" he remarked sarcastically, eager to remind himself of the bitter feelings he harbored for her.
She did not waver in her uncharacteristic elegance but instead smile charmingly. "Yes, I am. I am tired of the dull colors that are in my wardrobe so I thought that I'd treat myself to a pretty dress. Do you like it?" she asked, spinning around like a little coquette.
"It suits you. I am thankful that your breasts aren't spilling out of the top like they usually do," he replied bluntly.
Meg was not surprised to hear such crass words spew from his mouth. "I see you staring at that region all the time regardless of the cut of my blouse, so knowing that you'll never again be intimate with a woman, I am kind enough to give you some stimulation to quell your lust. Perhaps if I do decide to adjust the bodice I can also adjust the crotch of your pants as well; it seems like there are certain times when you could use more fabric to cover you up as well." She smirked when she saw his face turn red from embarrassment and a scowl form over his smug mouth.
"Why are you here? Do you wish to torment me as a form of amusement? If you have brought dinner with you then please set it on the floor. Otherwise leave me in peace," he said with attempted authority, however knowing that he possessed none.
"Leave it here, outside the door?" she taunted. "I hardly think it would fulfill your hunger from out there."
"You know what I meant," he replied, exasperated and tired of her strange games.
"Very well." She unlocked the door and entered, setting the hot food on the floor within his reach. He grabbed for the tray greedily and set it on his lap, taking care first to dip his hands in the small bowl of water provided so as not to infect his food. Meg squatted beside him a little so as not to soil her dress and grimaced as she heard her leg crack loudly.
"That has never happened. Have you been practicing your dancing?" Erik asked worriedly.
"Of course! I dance for exercise and because I have little else to do."
"Not everyday, or for as long as you should."
"What business is it of yours?" she snapped. "Are you a dance instructor as well? I have been walking today and my legs are just tired from the journey." Meg refused to admit that her body was getting older, despite her good health, and that she had only a few years of intense choreography left. She had always dreaded this time in her life when she would no longer possess the able body to move so freely about the stage and still look maintain her grace.
Erik said nothing in response and was silent until she departed just minutes later.