Although she slept soundly, Meg awoke still exhausted from the dramatic events of the previous night. Her spirits lifted, when she looked at the clock and realized she would finally be able to go for a morning swim. She rolled her head atop her neck, loosening the stiff muscles, and dressed quickly for the docks.

Leaving her room, she held her breath as the door closed. The hallway was perfectly empty, and there was no sound coming from any direction. She exhaled and made her way through the theater to the back exit.

Outside, the air was crisp; most shops were closed and there were few carriages on the street. Meg shivered with excitement, stepping away from the doorframe and turning to quietly close the door behind her.

"Miss Giry! Oh, I'm sorry… Miss Addie!"

Meg's eyes widened in shock, before she turned to see Christine's husband leaning out the window of his carriage. The horses' clopping feet were mostly muffled by the gravel road they traversed. The vehicle came to a stop and the Vicomte eagerly hopped out without assistance. The driver unloaded his luggage and placed the items alongside the door, before taking his fare and leaving to find other employment.

"I'm so sorry," the Vicomte started, grabbing his suitcase and a satchel from next to Meg, "but, if you wouldn't mind, could you please hold the door?"

Meg's hand was still on the doorknob, as she had not completed the task of closing it before Raoul had called out.

"Of course, it's no trouble at all, monsieur," she politely went back through the door to hold it open properly.

"Thank you," the grateful man replied. "And good morning to you! I wanted to arrive early, but I'll feel terrible if I disturb Christine or Gustave's sleep. Is there somewhere I can relax for a bit, until I go surprise my family?"

"I was actually…" On my way out, she finished in her mind. It wasn't his fault that he had terrible timing. She forced herself to reflect, instead, upon her friend's happiness that would be guaranteed with her husband's arrival. "Are you hungry?"

"I'm famished!" Meg nodded and started to lead him toward the kitchen, while he continued talking. "My driver arrived before dawn. I anticipated leaving early to be here before your first show of the day, but I assumed that I would be able to stop en route for breakfast. Instead, the man rushed us here! Everything is still closed!"

The two were in the kitchen, and Raoul went to the closest table to place his bags and coat on a chair. Meg sighed quietly as the cordial man chatted away, no idea that he had, once again, interrupted her morning routine. She went to the cupboard and paused.

"Coffee? Tea?"

"A coffee would be wonderful, thank you."

She took the necessary items down from the cupboard and began the brewing process. Now that her morning swim was most likely canceled, she would take a cup, herself. The cold waves were usually enough to invigorate her for the day. It felt like ages ago, since she had been able to go out. It's been a long week, she inwardly lamented.

"How did the rest of the performances go this weekend? I'm looking forward to watching these final shows, today."

"They went well." Meg's lip twitched when she remembered the Phantom's admonishment of her missing her entrance. "Well enough, anyway. Another number was added. It's a duet between myself and Christine."

"A duet?" he smiled. "I can hardly bear the suspense! Do you sing with Christine? Or does my wife dance with you?"

"She doesn't dance, and I only sing a few lines," the blonde woman shrugged modestly.

"Well…one more thing to look forward to!" Raoul encouraged his wife's oldest friend. "And how has Gustave dealt, in my absence? Hopefully he wasn't too much of a burden!"

"No, not at all," Meg spoke softly. "We've grown quite fond of him. The whole company. He has a happy routine. He and Squelch have sequestered a spot in the wings where they play games."

The handsome gentlemen pursed his lips and worried his brow with mild embarrassment. "Ah, now, which of the performers is Squelch?"

The hour passed quickly, with Meg serving croissants and a banana custard. They spoke of his family's voyage to America, his and Christine's home in Montpellier, and his short excursion to visit Jack Astor in his home in Rhinebeck.

"We'll be staying in Astor House tonight, actually. I had planned on staying there when we'd first arrived, but it was booked. Have you seen it?"

I stayed there with Erik… "I have," Meg smiled tightly, revealing nothing. "It's very…elegant."

"I made the reservation for the next night, for the duration of our stay in New York. Apparently, that's how Jack Astor heard of me and was able to contact me. He had some…interesting business proposals. Oh! And he had some insider information that a new luxury ocean liner is being commissioned. By White Star Line, I believe? Should be the largest ship ever built! Amazing, what they're doing with travel, nowadays. I'm sure he and his wife will set sail on its maiden voyage, judging from his enthusiasm."

"That all sounds fascinating," Meg tried to muster enough excitement to help the moment pass. She looked at the grandfather clock in the corner of the room. The chimes had been disabled ever since its arrival to the kitchen, but it still showed an accurate time. "Christine should be awake, I believe. Shall I take you to her?"

Raoul's smile faded and he checked his own pocket watch. Surprise registered on his face, and he looked back to Meg with an apologetic countenance.

"I've kept you too long, already. I apologize, but I do appreciate getting to know you better. Christine always spoke of you so fondly. There is no doubt in my mind that your reunion has greatly eased the pain she felt when she – when we – thought you were…lost. What an unexpected blessing, running into you in the most random of happenstance, after all these years!"

He nodded once, then left the room with his belongings, heading down the hall to the guest quarters he had left only three days ago.

Meg hadn't known how to react to the spontaneous heart-to-heart, but, eventually, she got up and went through the motions of cleaning the small mess she'd made in the kitchen. The plates clattered, and she took deep breaths to calm her racing heart. Methodically, she cleaned and placed the used items back in their spots. As if they hadn't been touched.

According to the clock, there was only an hour until their first call. All three shows on Sundays were matinees, with mandatory cleaning of the theater to follow. Meg returned to her room and changed out of her swimwear. She took the extra time to wash her hair, towel dry it, and place the pinned curls atop her head. When she took the pins out for the duet, her hair would most likely still be damp and curlier than normal. By the second show, the curls would be perfect.

She applied a light layer of talcum powder on every part of her body, then a little rouge to her cheeks and lips, followed by a glossy salve to brighten her mouth. There was still plenty of time to put on her costume and the ridiculous headdress.

Sitting at the vanity throughout most of the process, her eyes fell onto the modest jewelry box in the back corner. She opened the lid and took out her mother's ring, placing it on her smallest finger. Holding it up to the light, she stared at her hand and wondered if it could be a mirror image of her mother's.

On the other end of the hall, Christine was ecstatic to welcome her husband.

"You're early! Oh, I've missed you so much, Raoul!"

He held her, swooping her around himself. The motion was relieving to Christine, who worried that she might cry from the stress that had accumulated in her heart.

"I missed you, too, darling. Coming back tonight was too long of a wait. Is Gustave still sleeping?"

"He is," Christine confirmed. "He's completely exhausted. Every show, he's been a part of the opening act-"

"Every show?"

"With the exception of the final show yesterday, yes. But it was quite late, by then. Honestly, I'm so tired, as well. I cannot wait for this day to be over. And I have so much to tell you! But I'm afraid it will have to wait until after this first show. I need to get ready. Can you stay with Gustave? Take him out to breakfast when he wakes? He'll be so happy to have time alone with his father."

Raoul had returned to her, and, Christine felt her world was made…right, again. The threats and looming presence of the Phantom were still present, but they held little weight.

Eventually, she left her room and went straight to the stage for the first call of the day. The musical director nodded respectfully in her direction and awaited the rest of the company to arrive. Meg was on the other end of the stage, sitting and stretching her toned limbs, with the rest of the dancing troupe chittering and standing around her. Christine walked boldly over, much to the delight of the chorus girls.

"Good morning to you, Addie, ladies," the world-renowned singer cheerfully greeted the troupe.

Meg was taken aback by the upswing of Christine's mood. "Good morning" was all she could return. Clearly, her husband's return overshadowed whatever transpired between her and Erik after I left last night…

With the entire cast anxious to begin their final workday, Mr. Bailey gave his minor corrections. Every gripe was easily corrected. Most had to do with either noted pitch problems or tempo inconsistencies.

None from Erik, obviously, Meg thought to herself. Mr. Y's corrections were always stated as such. And they were usually a bit acerbic.

As for the mysterious man behind the scenes, Erik had awoken after a fitful sleep in a state of confusion and disorientation. He remembered very little of the dream that had plagued him all night, but he knew whatever he had imagined was weighing on his mind. And possibly his heart.

He rose from the bed, still fully clothed, and not under the covers whatsoever. A fleeting thought crossed his mind. Take the boy, he remembered telling himself. He righted his attire, affixed his mask, and brought his appearance up to his regular high standard.

When he left his room, he cursed the fact that he had slept through most of the morning. He had no wish for there to be tittle-tattle amongst the cast of a sighting of the reclusive Mr. Y. For him to be walking around backstage, he would have to be especially careful not to run into anyone.

The hallway was empty, thankfully, and he could hear that the first show was already underway. Most of the company and workers would be in their designated places, either in the wings or in their respective rooms. Once a show began, it was not permitted for anyone to be wandering unnecessarily. But, as he strode the hall toward the stage and where he would sneak off to his favorite vantage point, he heard a door open somewhere in the space behind him.

He grabbed at the nearest door handle and dashed inside, leaving it cracked open to see the passerby.

Before they walked past him, he heard young Gustave and the unmistakable voice of the Vicomte conversing excitedly back and forth. His teeth clenched in his jaw and he shut the door, infuriated by the early return of Christine's beau. The father and son passed by without knowing that they had crossed the path of an irate Phantom.

The two voices gradually faded into silence, leaving Erik to see past his anger.

He was in Meg's room.

Deep down, he had registered that it was her door that he had pushed through. He had visited often enough. But, in his haste to not be discovered, he had only thought of his escape. Not of where he might end up.

He looked around, sighing. It was fitting he was there. He needed to speak to Meg. Once and for all. They couldn't move forward without revealing their secrets. Her secret. Why does she love me? he wondered, again. He stepped further into the room, noticing the multiple scents of her favorite products lingering in the air. The talcum powder, her lotions, the smell of her lavender soap…

As he wandered toward his own reflection in her vanity, his eyes skimmed the area. A book lay discarded in her one and only trash bin. He squinted to read the small title, then reacted with astonishment when he realized what it was.

Le Comte de Monte-Cristo? She purchased that. Why on earth would she throw it away?

He pulled the chair from its tucked spot and sat; then, he leaned over to remove the beloved novel from its cruel fate.

"You are Edmond Dantes, after all, aren't you, Erik?"

Her accusation was still fresh in his mind. It brought forth another memory. Something buried in the recesses of time.

"You are Dantes. You feel wronged by the Opera Populaire, betrayed by…Christine…You took your revenge against those you deemed at fault…you hurt them in the most painful way you could…"

He placed the book on the table and closed his eyes, trying to visualize the eight-year-old memory with as much accuracy as possible.

"But, like Edmond, you realized that…you crossed a line… You let her go. Your need for revenge resurfaced when you saw me…does that make me Haydee?"

Erik recaptured the book in his hands and flipped through its pages to find the passage he suddenly needed to reread in the final chapter.

"Love me then, Haydee!" he read. "Who knows? Perhaps your love will make me forget all that I do not wish to remember."*

He read the short excerpt to the end, though he didn't actually need the refresher. He knew the ending. However, he didn't find it quite as unsatisfying as he had on previous occasions.

The book returned to its newly-secured spot on the vanity, and Erik closed his eyes in the seat once more, listening to the faint sounds of Phantasma seeping through the closed door.

Meg would eventually come. And, this time, he would know what to say.

Onstage, Christine awaited Meg's return from changing into her all-white costume. The blonde eventually stood beside her, having enough time to visit for the briefest of moments before their duet.

"How pleased are you, to have your husband with you, again?"

"Immensely," the brunette whispered through a smile.

"And what have you told him, about what has occurred in his absence?"

"Nothing, yet," Christine frowned slightly, then. "I will tell him everything, as soon as I have the chance."

"Where is he, now?" Meg looked out from the wings to the front row seat the Vicomte had previously occupied.

"With Gustave. Either in the room or eating brunch elsewhere."

Meg let out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding. There was more she needed to say, but their number was the next to show. She gave her friend a nod and smile, then trotted to her place on the opposite end of the stage. Squelch was in the back corner, being comforted by a sympathetic Fleck. As Meg passed, neither acknowledged her. Gangle was nowhere to be seen.

Their duet went smoothly, with each party savoring the last day they would ever be together onstage. Most likely, their last day together in any way, shape, or form. Christine would leave later in the afternoon, after the final Sunday show, and that would be that.

Christine hurried to the women's dressing room, allowing for Greta and her assistants to transform her with plenty of time to spare. Meg followed, but waited outside the door. She looked down the hall, not very far, to her own bedroom door. It was closed, as she'd left it. For a fraction of a second, she thought about waiting in her room, but she couldn't hide away and hope for the best. Lives were at stake.

At last, the songstress emerged, a vision in lilac. The glittering, elegant costume still impressed Meg. Christine was surprised by her friend waiting for her outside the door, but she recovered quickly and placed a hand on her heart.

"Is everything okay, Meg?" she whispered worriedly.

"No," Meg hesitated. "But, I'm-"

"Come," Christine interrupted. "Walk with me. I'm afraid that took a little longer than usual."

Meg paused to listen and was dismayed to hear that the show, indeed, had progressed further toward the end than she had expected.

They barely made it to the wing, when Christine had to take the stage for her climactic song. After that, the bows came swiftly, with Gangle appearing from the side with a single large bouquet of the Phantom's red roses for Christine. She took them with a tight smile and made one more gracious bow to her adoring public. The flowers were discarded in an even more callous manner, onto the floor of the wing where she exited.

Christine rushed back to Greta, swapping her costume and anxiously awaiting her hair to be fastened back into a perfect homage of her look in Hannibal. She wondered, idly, if Raoul would recognize the costume. She frowned prettily into the mirror, understanding that her considerate husband would immediately remember the iconic dress from the first night of their reunion.

I suppose my ensemble will be the opening statement for the difficult discussion we're about to have…

Meg sat next to her, watching the German woman complete her work. Already changed back into her opening costume, she nervously licked her lips, never meeting Christine's eyes. She thought, again, about returning to her room. But, if Christine was about to tell Raoul everything, Meg needed to be nearby to diffuse the inevitable maelstrom that would arise.

Still in Meg's bedroom, Erik's eyes opened and looked toward the door. He heard the first show conclude and the increased traffic in the hallway outside. No Meg. There was only a thirty-minute break between the first and second shows, and he expected Meg to walk through the door at any moment.

When Christine and Meg left for Christine's guest quarters, both of their hearts raced in anticipation. They arrived to an empty, dark room. No Gustave, no Raoul.

"Meg," Christine whispered, her voice shaking. "Do you think…does he have them? Did he do something-"

"No," Meg forcefully responded. "You told your husband to take Gustave to dine, and that's exactly where they are. Stop looking for malfeasance where there isn't the smallest sign of it." Her tone was biting.

Christine nodded.

"Christine," Meg adopted a kinder mood. "What will happen when you tell him? Raoul?"

Her friend sent an assessing glare in her direction.

"I suppose it depends on how much I share with him. If he knew how the Phantom lured me here by threatening to kidnap our child-"

"Oh, please, Christine! Please! If anything happens to Erik-"

"I know, Meg," the diva sighed. She shook her head and leaned against the arm of the sofa. The skirt was too voluminous to sit upon. "I know. And a part of me hates that you're making me choose between what you want and what I want." She looked up to where the blonde dancer stood. "And to place your wishes above my own means that I will have to lie to the man I love. It's not fair for you to ask me to do such a thing."

Meg bit her lip nervously. There was nothing else she could say. Nothing, except…

"You're right," she blurted out. "I love him. I know I shouldn't. I know he doesn't return my feelings. But I do. And I don't want your husband to kill him. Just as you didn't want him to kill your husband."

Christine's breath caught in her throat. "He told you about that night?"

It was Meg's turn to wordlessly nod.

"Did he tell you that I've already made Raoul spare his life, once?"

The confusion in Meg's eyes was enough of an indication to make Christine continue.

"Before we performed Don Juan Triumphant, I stole away early one morning to visit my father's grave. Your Erik was there, determined to capture me again. Raoul came charging to my rescue. He and the Phantom dueled, although it was hardly an even match. Before Raoul could end that vile man's life, I pulled Raoul away and begged him to flee with me. How many times do I owe that man his life, Meg? What do I ever get in return?"

"The knowledge that you showed compassion and charity to a man so hated, so rejected by the world? Is that not enough?" Meg's voice was trembling, now. "If you can't do it for him, again, would you please consider sparing his life for me?"

Christine looked upon her former confidant with great pity.

"I told him that I would convince you to leave New York with my family. That we would return to Europe. And that he would never see any of us ever again."

"I'm not-"

"Don't," Christine commanded. "I already know your feelings on that subject. He was livid with me, just for suggesting that I would take you from him."

Meg's heart fluttered in her chest. That is…something…

"He controls you like he controlled your mother." And Meg's heart dropped with that condemning statement. But Christine gave her no reprieve. "You are an asset to him, Meg. He uses you, and you love him despite his treatment of you. But it's not love, when it's not reciprocated. It's turmoil and heartache. Love is more than a feeling. It's a choice. And he'll never choose you."

Meg swallowed the lump that had amassed in her throat. She felt hollow. A glance at the mantle clock reminded her that she needed to be onstage soon.

As she turned to leave, Christine called out to her, again. She stopped mid-retreat.

"I'm so sorry, Meg. I'm terrified with what will happen, once I'm gone. I love you, dear friend, and I wish there was a way to tear you away from him without doing you more harm."

Meg hesitated. "Thank you for your honesty." She turned, then, to face Christine, again. "You will leave, and we will all move on. Will you do me a favor, though, please?"

Christine tilted her head in curiosity, nodding slowly.

"I'm not sure when, or if, I will make it to my mother's final resting place. If you go, would you mind placing flowers on her grave from me?"

"Yes, of course," Christine softly answered.

Meg left the room to return to the stage. Christine followed shortly after, mostly relieved that her husband and son had yet to arrive. The orchestra was a cacophony of noisy warm-ups, and the audience was an especially boisterous group that restlessly waited for the show to start.

The second show began and a hush fell upon the theater.

Christine in her opulent white gown, watching downstage left and waiting for the moment she would perform the duet.

Meg in her opening costume, still pinning the macabre skull headdress to her crown of curls, waiting near her dancers who whispered amusing gossip in each other's ears.

Erik growing impatient of waiting on Meg to find him in her room, finding a letter amongst her things that he couldn't restrain himself from reading.

Raoul and Gustave in the front row, waiting to applaud the performances of the matron of their family and her beloved friend.

"Coney Isle…glistening and glimmering!
Rising bright…
Drenched in light…"

*excerpt in quotations from Alexandre Dumas' Le Comte de Monte-Cristo, final chapter