It was another grey day with a thick fog hanging over the city. Erik really disliked this aspect of staying in London; it was certainly one of the grimmest places he had lived. Every morning the smog caused by the rapid industrialisation would settle above the skyline and sometimes not dissipate until mid-morning. The problem had become so bad that in 1873 it made world-wide headlines because it took over four months to evaporate and resulted in over two hundred deaths. This incident made Erik wary of the fog-like substance and he had decided upon arrival to the city that if a simular problem were to occur he would leave. He made a mental note to contact an agent and arrange viewings for a few properties a reasonable train journey from the city; afterall, if he were to win Christine from her Vicomte he needed to be a viable option - a gentleman - and property ownership would add to that conglomeration.

In preparation for his possible lunch engagement with Christine Erik had set aside his normal all-black attire and instead dressed in the current London fashion. He had chosen to wear a woollen navy morning coat accompanied by a dark grey waistcoat, a snow white shirt and navy ascot tie to match his coat. He had chosen to forgo the top hat and narrow heeled shoes that gentleman seemed particularly fond of as he didn't need anything to add to his unnatural height, but he reluctantly grey and black pinstriped trousers that were designed to provide the illusion of height. As he had forgone the top hat he opted for a homburg because he believed it held a simular appearance, albeit smaller and less ostentatious, to his favoured fedora.

When Meg arrived in the hotel foyer Erik was happy she had more of an effort to appear fashionable than she had done the previous night. Her skirt was cream with a pattern of black vertical stripes inbetween small black diamonds, and uncharacteristically she was wearing a bustle. Erik had never seen Meg wear the item before, assuming she didn't like the restrictions such dresses caused her movement. Her blouse was burgandy with a ruffled collar and cuffs, with thin black lave around her neckline. Her chosen hat was black velvet with a burgandy floral trim, secured to her head in the currently favoured lopsided fashion. The only part of her outfit that looked out of place for a well-to-do lady was her hair; she had only pinned the front away from her face, leaving the rest to cascade down her back. Her lips were stained a light rouge and he noticed how she had applied powder to lighten her skin, he didn't like how woman preferred a pale complexion as it closely resembled a funeral mask. - he understood is was reflective of social standing; a pale complexion meant they were too delecate to have spent a prolonged time outside - but he had only even seen Meg with a heavily paled complexion when she had performed on stage.

When the concierge indicated that their cab was waiting and Erik offered Meg his arm and escorted her outside into the smoggy street. Although he would be reluctant to admit it, he was looking forward to their excursion to the British Museum.

Once their journey had began Erik noticed that Meg once again seemed despondent. The previous evening she had happily embraced him after she admitted his exclusion of jêtês and pointe work from his latest creation, although he knew that with time to reflect she would be reluctant to accept it.

He had always been happy with silence and his own thoughts, but he found Meg's silence uncomfortable. He wasn't entirely sure why it irked him, but he had become accustomed to her chattering and her presence. Becoming increasingly irritated he finally decided to break the silence - if he had upset her once again he would rather know than be subjected to the cold shoulder.

"Are you well?"

She looked up from her interlaced fingers, clearly surprised by the question, "I am. I am looking forward to our outing. We have barely spent anytime together since coming to London", she bit her lip as though considering whether or not to preceed with her train of thought, but whatever she was thinking never materlaisd into words.

Once again he was showing concern for her, yet she treated his feelings of concern as though they meant nothing. Erik believed that although he did not intend on marrying her, he did care for her. "I shan't enquire after your wellbeing again Marguerite, as it seems you don't consider me someone you can trust".

Meg narrowed her eyes in frustration. The man was truly insufferable; of course she trusted him, she just didn't feel like her current woe was worth complaining about.

"I apologise for offending the great Opera Ghost's sensibilities, as that was never my intention", she spoke with a smile - just in case he misunderstood her playful tone for something more serious but it was unneeded; Erik had become accustomed to her saracstic wit, "I suppose I am nervous. I meet the managers this afternoon and they haven't seen me dance, yet have given me the lead. They've done so based soley on your recommendation. What if I embarress you?"

Meg was an accomplished dancer, and she certainly should have more faith in her abilities - she had danced as prima ballerina in New York - but he suspected her fall had a bigger impact on her self esteem than he initially believed

"You won't embarrass me. You are an accomplished danver. You rival La Sorelli and even your mother. Your position is well earnt", not a single word that he had spoken was a lie. He had never been too focused on dance, but when she took the stage the world seemed to dissappear and there was only her. He had watched her dance on the boat and although she had fallen, every movement was perfection - or at least he thought so.

"That is kind, but they employed me on Raoul's bequest and then gave me the lead because of you. They have never seen me ance and that unnerves me"

"You have no reason to be unnerved". It was the only answer he could give that wasn't a lie, but neither did it divulge the entire truth.

"And for the record", she added, "I trust you with my life"

--xxxx--

The British Museum was a grand affair, much like everything the British did to demonstrate their imperial strength.

Erik explained to Meg the architectural influences upon its design, explaining how it was an ode to the classical structures found in Italy and Greece. Upon entry they walked through the halls and rooms adorned with artifacts collected form across the globe, ranging from trinkets such as rings and necklaces, portraits and paintings, to the large marble foot of Apollo

One of the things Erik enjoyed most about their visit was the opportunity to impart his fairly extensive knowledge of different cultures and different artifcats to Meg. He was pleased to see her intellectual capabilities went beyond literature and that she enthusiastically listened to him describe how certain collections qwre acquired, with many left to the museum via probate, and others taken when the British had undertaken archeological work or when a country 'joined' the Empire.

It was when they approached the collection of Persian silks and artifacts that Erik drew quiet. They hadn't discussed what he had told her, and he had no intention to volunteer any further information, instead he tried to direct her away by taking her elbow gentley and guuding her in a different direction.

"Erik, I would like to see", she protested pulling her elbow from his touch. As she looked at him a sudden realisation crossed her face, "oh...oh Erik I am sorry. It must make you terribly uncomfortable to have to see those things".

Erik did not find Persian artifacts or culture annerving, far from it; he had several pieces of clothing of Persian origin, as well as various trinkets and smaller pieces of art work, but Meg didn't know that. All she knew was a pracied version of the things he had dne in the country, and he had left out the architectural work her had undertaken and his odd friendship woth Nadir, focusing on his bloodlust and execution. He didn't want her, or anyone for that fact, to see him as weak and unwilling to face certain aspects of his past.

"Not at all, I was thinking of you", his last words hung in the air as she grabbed his hand and pulled him into the room.

As the inspected the Persian collection a suffering silence engulfed the pair until the came across some robes very simular to the ones Erik processed and he commented that his were finer.

"Was it all terrible? I mean - I know it was terrible - but there must have been some positive aspects"

"There wefe some positive aspects" was all he was willing to say before he led her out of the room. He didnt want to dicuss Persia with her; she seemed to have overlooked what he had previously told her and their friendship appeared to be under repair, and he was still fearful that she would tell Christine of his past. There was only one living person who knew his story, and that had been shared slowly over years of friendship. If he shared his past with Meg she would trust him, and probably not interfere with Christine , but there was always the risk. There as also the other danger that sharing such inimate details of his life could lead to the formation of a stronger emotional bond between them beyond what already existed, and he was concerned that this would full his already carnal urging towards Meg.

Erik wad glad the smog had lifted while they had been inside the museum amd he saught a secluded bench that was shielded from the direct eyeline of other patrins by some over grown trees. He led Meg to the quiet spot and the pair sat down.

Meg noticed how Erik seemed to be trembling slightly as he placed his hands upon the top of his thighs in an attempt to steady them, before removing his hat and grasping it tightly before they finally stilled. Whatever he was thinking was causing him great distress, and she felt overwhelmingly guilty for having insisted they look at the Persian artifacts.

Meg placed her hand atop one of his, "I am sorry if my desire to see thise things has upset you". Immediately Erik tensed; he didn't understand her; she was being considerate of his feelings, and he was starting to believe her behaviour was a genuine personality trait rather than an act all women, except Christine, used to control men.

"You have not upset me. My life has not been easy", he paused briefly to consider whether he should continue, then with a heavy sigh he trusted her with his story. Erik told her of his mother, travels across Europe in a gypsy caravan and his time in Russia as a magician. He told her that his fondest memories were of Italy, and that was where he was apprenticed to a great architect. He let her know of the man's betrayal, but didn't share why. He ommitted the death of Javet, Luciana and Reza, as well as the influence of the khanum, but he told her of his travels and how he was able to embrace different cultures.

Once he finished his monologue he dared not look at his friend sitting beside him. The last time he had told her of his past it was because he wanted to remove her possible interference in his plans for Christine, but now he shared them because she was his friend. She was still ungrateful and irritating, but she willingly tolerated and cared for him - in the same way Nadir did - and he would need her support if he were to win Christine.

He only turned to face her when he felt small fingers interlace with his own and Meg's head rest on his sboulder.

They sat in silence for a while before either spoke. "Thank you for trusting me with your story", she said in a quiet tone.

"You said you trust me with your life, I should return that trust", his words caused Meg to smile and sigh, but his next shattered her growing hope about their relationship, "you are my friend afterall".

--xxx--

A/N - I feel compelled to say 'poor Meg', she accepts Erik for who he is, butnhe remains focused on Christine

.