Author's Note: This chapter contains some hinted (um... "hinted" may be an understatement) erotica, so those who have anything against it better skip this chapter. It's not really relevant to the plot, but reading it will help you understand some things which will happen afterwards. But this chapter is really fun:) So I suggest you read it, even though the pairing may not be according to taste of some phans. Please don't skip to the end!
It was the evening of the final rehearsal of "Orpheus and Euridice" - the Opera had postponed the opening night for a week, which caused much public squabble and opposition in the press, but the crowds who were the regular audience in the Opera eagerly awaited the opening night: it was rumoured that La Carlotta was to be replaced, but no-one, apart from the ensemble, knew who she was going to be replaced with. Some daydreamers told to anyone who would listen that the genius Christine DaaƩ would return for her swan song, and others just pursed their lips at this: most of the public knew that the young Vicomte guarded his new wife like the apple of his eye and would never let her do that.
Meg Giry unfastened her tight ballet slippers from her feet and wriggled her toes, eager to get out of the rigid prison that the shoes provided. After a strenuous five hours, the dress rehearsal was finally over. Luc made the ensemble and the orchestra work without stopping, because he wanted the opening night to be perfect. Although Meg admired his persistence and vigour, she could have well used a rest somewhere between rehearsing. Perhaps it was the dramatic exit of La Carlotta which motivated Luc to be so demanding of them: Carlotta shrieked so loud when he told her who was going to replace her that half of Paris must have heard her, Meg thought. The Italian leading lady's words still echoed in her mind: "A chorus girl to replace me! One little dancing girl shakes 'er skirt at you and you cast her as a diva? Non, non voglio udire, Signor! Say bye-bye to your prima donna: I will not return!" Meg didn't like to consider the possibility of replacing Carlotta forever: she was first and foremost a ballerina, a chorus girl, and since she didn't have high ambitions, she didn't ask for more. It was true that she couldn't dance forever, but she wanted to make most of the time she had left. When her feet fail her, her voice will remain: but she only wanted to sing as a second option. Of course, she always admired Christine's beautiful voice, and even sometimes fantasised how would it be if she were to sing like that. But she never gave herself more credit than necessary: at least, until the Phantom's note came.
Now, Meg wasn't an arrogant girl, but when you get the note from, in her mind, the most genius living composer in all France, possibly the world, you're bound to get just a little bit conceited. The fact that the genius composer was also a murderer was another thing, and Meg often worried what would have happened if she had entered Christine's old dressing room on that night, what would the Phantom have done with her... She remembered how, five years ago, she was the first to step in his lair; she remembered holding his mask in her hand, still warm from the face which wore it, wondering what became of him... and now she knew. He was back to haunt the opera house, and he would not stop until Christine was with him.
The ensemble and the orchestra had all left some twenty minutes ago, and Meg had fallen behind because she needed to iron her dress for the performance tomorrow night. Only a couple of candles illuminated her dressing room, but she wasn't afraid of the dark. She virtually spent all her life in the Opera Populaire, and she learned that little things like darkness could do her no harm. The shadows beyond the candle flame weren't threatening to her: when your life spun around the theatre, and each night you had to skulk through various unlit passages behind the stage, they became old friends.
She finished ironing her dress and hung it on a peg on the wall, so it will be ready for her tomorrow night. Meg then took a candle-stick from the table and left the dressing room, locking it behind her. She pocketed the key in her dress and went towards the ballet dormitories, where she was sleeping. The sound of her shoes, which would have clicked on parquet, was smothered by the thick, dusty carpet.
Meg walked through the deserted corridors of the opera house, passing many closed doors to dressing rooms, and tall shadows of props which loomed above her tiny form. She climbed several staircases and reached the hallway which lead to the boxes from one to ten. All the doors to the boxes were locked, but still something out of the ordinary caught her eye. The door to Box Five was open: just for an inch or two, but enough for her to see it. She approached the door, put her hand around the handle, and pulled it open.
Meg stepped into the darkness of the box. The darkness from the huge, empty space that was the stalls swept over her and, for a moment, completely wiped out all her senses. She blinked as her vision slowly returned. The stalls underneath her were empty: monstrous props for the first act of tomorrow's "Orpheus" stood on the stage, placed on their exact spots. Chairs specked the orchestra pit, and the harp was the only instrument left there, its golden patina shining oddly in the dark.
Meg looked round the box. It was empty. But who could have opened it? The only people who held the keys to these boxes were Luc and her mother: Luc would have left long ago, and her mother was undoubtedly waiting for her in the dormitories - she wouldn't leave the door open. Particularly not in Box Five, Meg thought.
"Meg... " She heard someone calling her name and spun around. It seemed to be coming from somewhere in the stalls. "Meg... " Yet when it spoke again, it echoed all through the enormous space, and seemed to be coming from everywhere around her. Suddenly, a wind, from nowhere in particular, blew and ruffled her dress, putting out the candle she was holding, leaving her in unending darkness. She heard a bang and ran for the door. Her hands grabbed the handle and pushed. The door didn't budge - she was locked. She didn't have any mean of escape. It was a long way down to the stalls, and even in broad daylight it was debatable if she could climb her way down, let alone in pitch-black darkness.
Meg tried her luck with the door again, but to no avail. She pushed and pulled at the handle, threw herself against the door, but nothing helped. She was loosing hope, and saw that she had to spend the night here, or at least stay here until someone walked by... But no-one was going to pass, and certainly nobody will go checking all the boxes for foolish chorus girls who stick their noses into things which don't concern them, she thought bitterly. She tried to open the door again - fruitlessly - and pounded it with her fist, letting out a small yell of rage. She stared at the door, frustrated, letting her hands fall limply at her sides.
Then she heard it again. The sound which she thought was just an echo or a sigh of the empty opera house around her. She heard it just behind her, a whisper, and warm breath splashed the curve of her neck, sending shivers down her spine - of fear, or perhaps something else, she didn't know. She hoped it was fear, because she didn't want to think about the something else.
"Night-time sharpens, heightens each sensation, " the voice sang. Almost each syllable of the Phantom's voice shivered with the pure exhilaration of his song. "Darkness stirs and wakes imagination... " His hands traced her shoulders and her hands, leaving them warm, although he never made contact with her body, and slowly went to her hips. "Silently the senses abandon their defences... " Meg felt a strange intoxication cloud her judgment, and her body shuddered along with his voice, with his caresses. "Helpless to resist the notes I write... " The Phantom's gloved hands met just below her belly and he pulled her close to him. Meg felt her small body slam against his strong frame. "For I compose-- " She felt him learn over her right shoulder, so they were now cheek to cheek: his was incredibly warm, and Meg felt his hands move to gently turn her to face him. "--the music of the night... " The Phantom's hands were around her hips once again, and Meg looked into his eyes. She remembered what Christine had once said to her: In his eyes, all the sadness of the world. She felt sorry for this lone creature of darkness, forced to spent his youth hiding in the basements of the opera house. His green eyes shone from under the ivory white mask, and Meg felt drawn to them. And then, like thinking her thoughts, the Phantom leaned in and kissed her.
It was unlike any kiss Meg had ever experienced. It wasn't the way she used to kiss, with just placing her mouth against someone else's - it was... the Phantom forced her to open her mouth and pushed his tongue inside it. She shivered as his tongue massaged her own, pulling away every moment or so to let her have breathing room, ever so cautious. Meg moaned in protest, and leaned against him, kissing him back. Her senses exploded. Their kissing became more vigorous: the Phantom started biting on her lip, and when she groaned with pleasure, he lowered his head and kissed her cold neck. Meg opened her mouth and sighed as his tongue probed her skin. She dug her fingernails into his back and pulled him close, begging him to continue. Her breathing was heavy as the Phantom returned to kiss her face, once again inserting his tongue inside her mouth.
Just then, two faces swam to Meg's mind and the hypnotic quality of the Phantom's touch subsided. She saw her mother's face in the night of the chandelier crash, sad and terrified by what the Phantom had done to the Opera. Then she saw Luc's face, just as she had seen it a few nights back. His face was pale, with smoky black rings under his eyes, giving her a weary, but kind smile, his blue eyes lighting up when he recognised her. Something broke in her heart. This man, this Phantom had caused so much suffering to the people dear to her, to poor Christine, her mother, Raoul and Luc, and this was her attitude? She was kissing him like a common whore! He killed two men five years ago, and she could so easily fall to his charms, like nothing ever happened. She felt sickened by herself.
Meg backed away from the Phantom until she could back away no more, and her back hit the railing of the box. There was nothing behind her but the vast, empty space which separated her from the stalls below. Meg shuddered. What was she thinking ? How could she be so stupid? She shouldn't have wandered to here in the first place! How was she going to escape now? The Phantom was standing there, blocking her only exit from the box - which was also locked - and she somehow doubted that he would step away just because she asked him to.
Meg held her breath, staring into those cold eyes behind the mask, calculating her means of escape, but nothing productive came to her mind. She thought that the Phantom would do something - advance on her, attack her, or God knows what else - but he remained there, just standing, blocking her exit with his body. She thought he had said something, whispered something that may or may not have been her name; and she saw his black cloak rustle as he took a step towards her. She backed away as far as she could without actually toppling over the railing and falling down into the stalls.
Keep your hand at the level of your eyes! Her mother's harsh warning echoed in her mind. Meg quickly raised her hand to her eyes, her fist clenched, as the Phantom whipped something - probably his lasso - from his cloak. She squeezed her eyes shut.
"Meg!" she heard someone calling her as the Phantom advanced upon her and his dark shadow loomed over her. It sounded like her mother, but her mother couldn't be here, not now: she was probably in her room, sleeping. It was just a figment of her imagination, Meg thought and waited for the rope to clinch around her neck. But instead, someone called her name again.
"MEG!" Meg opened her eyes, astonished. The box was empty. The Phantom had fled. She turned around to face the stalls, her breathing heavy with fear, and saw Madame Giry, her mother, standing in the aisle. She was leaning on her walking stick and carrying a petroleum lamp in her hand. The lamp illuminated Madame's usual heavy black attire and her light red hair put in a tight bun.
"What are you doing up there?" Her mother asked sternly. Meg tried to say something, but couldn't find the words: she felt as if there was a great lump in her throat which she couldn't get rid of. "Get down! I've been looking all over for you! What were you thinking, running around the opera in the middle of the night?" Meg rushed to the door, and found it unlocked. She pushed the handle and emerged in the well-lit corridor.
Author's Note: Eeek! I'm sorry if I disappointed you with the Phantom/Meg scene. I think - I think - it won't happen again. Nobody knows where this story may take me, ;) But seriously, I know that Christine and the Phantom should be together, but I couldn't resist... now you see why this is M-rated. But don't worry: I'm not going to include sex or anything like that! I know that I don't quite follow all the stuff given in the film... but, frankly, I don't care! In the next chapter, Christine will come back to the Opera for the opening night. Promise:) Please review! Tell me what you like and don't like about the plot, the characters, the dialogue and the story in general!
All your reviews are read and highly appreciated!
