Chapter XII- One Hand, One Heart
"Now are you going to help me, or do I have to call the police," She said, shaking the stubborn Cab Driver's cravat. His head flip flopped around. "And tell them you refused to aid a lady?"
"N-no, Lady," the Cab driver said, becoming nervous at the sound of the police coming anywhere near him. "I'll just go help you get that nice gentleman into my cabby." Meg smiled sardonically, and tapped her fingers against her crossed arms. He climbed down and glared at her before setting inside the church, murmuring something about crazy women and how they always stopped him on his hour breaks.
He literally dragged Erik out so roughly that Meg was worried he'd hurt Erik even more than he already was. He almost threw him into the carriage and slammed the door behind him.
Well, he wasn't getting a tip, that's for sure. She arranged Erik in the seat so his head rested on her shoulder. He was unconscious- he had lost too much blood. Would she have to take him to a doctor? It couldn't be safe. She was locked in a situation she couldn't get out of, and it scared her.
If she took him to a doctor, he would be recognized, arrested, and then hung for four murders. And if the Emperor testified, Meg's 'rape' and his attempted murder would be added to the list. And she would have to sit and watch it all. So, no doctor.
But she couldn't just ignore his wounds either. It would be sentencing him to death. What was she to do? She could ask Mama, she always knew what to do. She was always so wise.
Wait a moment. Mama. She always treated smaller wounds for the ballet girls- like that one time when Odette broke her ankle from Swan Lake- Mama had set Odette's ankle with ease. And that one time when Joseph Buquet fell on a large nail. Mama had healed him.
So it was decided. She would call on Mama.
She wondered if it was alright to… no one was looking. The Cab Driver had already gotten half way to the Opera House, so he would not be glancing in. So she slipped her hand in his. They were rather cold (she had stripped his gloves off and used them as bandages, to help stop the bleeding) and a bit clammy. A few seconds later his fingers curled around hers.
Meg felt comfortable, and excepted. Like she had finally beat Christine at something. She loved Erik more than anything, and she always would.
Erik had the strangest dream. He dreamt that he was rescued by an Angel. But it wasn't the Angel of Music… he dreamed at first that the angel had Christine's face. She sang to him softly. He looked up and Christine's face changed into Meg's. For some reason, he had never been so happy to see her in his life. Relief swam over him and he smiled at her. She caressed his face, and her green eyes told him how much she loved him.
Loved… him? It wasn't possible. An unbelievable, disgusting falsehood. And yet…
Why did he do all these things that he did? He went off to stop the wedding without thinking, he took Meg's hair ribbon and tied it two his sword, of all things, kissed her not only once, but twice, and loved every moment of it, and he took two stabs in the back for her.
And he felt like a dog ready to die for her, just like he had for Christine. He had felt once that he would never get over Christine, and would spend the rest of his existence mourning the loss of her. He still loved Christine, it was true. A part of him always would, even until his dying day he would love her.
Yet Meg was different. She was special. She was like the North Star blinking through the darkness, and the only color in a spectrum of black and grey. He loved her. It was why he was willing to lay down his life for her. Even though she was an annoying, superstitious boomerang with blonde hair, he loved her.
And she loved him right back. Her green eyes didn't lie to him. The look in Christine's eyes had never looked like Meg's. Even when he let Christine go- the moment he redeemed himself through all that wickedness that he had done for her, and when she looked back while the Viscount paddled her away across the lake, it was never like this.
This one moment.
The Meg-Faced-Angel took his hand. Her hand was warm and inviting. He curled his fingers over hers, protecting them for whatever came their way.
The Cab Driver dropped them off at the corner of the Opera Populaire. Meg would never know how she got both herself AND Erik down into his house (perhaps it was adrenaline?), but she did. She even tucked him in, and then set off again to fetch her mother, who would be undoubtedly waiting in her apartment for news from Meg.
"Oh, my Darling!" Madame Giry cried when she saw who was knocking at her door. "I was so worried about you!" She cradled Meg in her arms. Meg, who felt comfort in her mother's arms, began to weep.
"Mama, I don't know who else to turn to," she said. "Erik's hurt badly and you are the only one I can trust."
"My God," Madame Giry said, utterly stunned. "You don't mean- my God, Marguerite, you can't be in love with-,"
"I am, Mama, and I am begging you," She said. "He is dying right now, and I do not know what I will do if you do not help me."
"Why didn't you tell me?" Madame Giry said, looking at her daughter like she had grown two heads.
"Mama," Meg said, beginning to be extremely worried. "I will explain everything later. Please,"
Her mother stared at her. Meg supposed that she was considering. Madame Giry pushed her daughter out of the way and almost ran down the hallways. Meg sprinted to keep up. She slammed the doors of Erik's house open and closed behind her, leaving Meg to meekly open and close the doors behind her.
Madame Giry looked at Erik, who had awoken suddenly at Madame Giry's slamming the door. Meg meekly opened and closed the door behind her.
"What have you done to yourself?" Madame Giry said, obviously annoyed. The question was unanswered as both man and woman were stunned at Madame Giry's actions. Pushing Erik flat on the bed, she ripped the bandages off without ceremony (Erik yelped at this) and poured some alcohol she had confiscated off of a male stagehand while she was walking to Erik's house.
Erik swore, and tried to move away from Madame Giry's clutches. "Are you insane?" He yelled at her. "That hurt!" Meg paled sufficiently.
Madame Giry bandaged up Erik's wounds again (which had stopped bleeding as much), got up from the bed, and moved to the bed. She gave one dramatic sniff, said "Be happy," and left the premises.
Erik and Meg just stared at each other. "Does she always act like that when she heals the ballet girls?" He said.
"No," she said, stunned. "She must like you." Laughing, she collapsed on the bed, and smiled up at him. "She didn't hurt you even more, did she?"
"I hope not." He said, frowning.
He was about to lean down and kiss her, she supposed, when she got nervous and moved away. "Um, would you like some water?" She smoothed out the skirt of her hopelessly ripped wedding dress.
He leaned back against the headboard and nodded. She excused herself from the room and ran to the water pump. Where she beat herself up for leaving the room… especially under the circumstances where she could have been kissed by Erik if she stayed.
Well, she was really thirsty, so it wasn't a lie. It was just very stressful- her mother had just nursed Erik (Meg really wanted to do it herself, but her mother really was the only one capable), and… well… it was just strange.
She pumped the water into the cup and drank it, then pumped it in again, this time for Erik. She carried it back to the room and presented it to Erik, crawled over him, and came to rest snuggling up against him, her head on Erik's shoulder.
"I should leave town." He said, quietly. "Get away from Paris…"
"We should leave town." She said.
"What?" Erik looked at her. "You aren't coming."
"Of course I am!" Meg said, sitting up straight and away from Erik. She was insulted. "I won't stay behind."
"Yes, you are." Erik said. "Because if I am caught by the police, I don't want you anywhere near me."
"I am coming whether you like it or not." Meg declared, looking up at the ceiling and crossing her arms in a pout.
It was a battle of wills for three minutes, until, finally, "Fine!" Erik snapped. "Fine. You want to come? You can come. But I swear before God, Marguerite Giry, if you do not flee at the very SIGHT of police I will throw you out myself."
She turned to him in delight and smiled. He melted, and looked at her in that adoring way she'd only see him use when he was looking at Christine.
It was utter devotion.
"We can live in the country," She commented, leaning back against him. He put his arm around her shoulders. "And have a small little house with lots of flowers, have ten kids," Erik really hoped she was joking with that statement- "and we can walk around the park on Sundays."
How did she know? How did she know that's what he dreamt of since… well, he didn't know exactly, but for a long time.
It was very strange. Everything he wanted in life… well, except for the ten children. Perhaps one or two, at most. He had a feeling he wouldn't make a very good father.
Meg would never leave his side, ever. They would live out their fantasy, and just be. Nothing would stop them from being together, not even death.
Authors Note- THIS IS NOT THE END. REPEAT- THIS IS NOT THE END.There is still the Epilogue, so don't nobody go nowhere, okay?
So how did you guys like it…? I don't really know. I love Erik in this chapter, (he's so cuddly!) but he's probably a little OOC (If so, I sincerely apologize).
Also, I wanted to say that the adoring look? I am so jealous of Meg. Seriously, why can't Erik look at us like that!
Well, it's also been suggested that I write a sequel. Well… I don't know. I haven't planned a sequel… do you all think it's a good idea? I suppose I could cut down a bit of what I'd planned for in the epilogue and put it in a sequel (there is a bunch of information I'd had to cut). Do you think it's a good idea? Cause if you don't think so, I wont do it.
