AN: This is my very first POTO fic, so while reading, please keep in mind that I have never written a POTO fic until now. All reviews are welcome, but I would like minimal flames, if possible, please. :)I really tried to keep them all in character, so if they act a bit OOC, I'm sorry. Anyway, please read and review! Thankies!

She had arrived just moments too late, for he had gone. She stepped upon the cold stone of the small island that was his lair and looked for any sign of the phantom or her friend, Christine Daae, but there was no one to be found. This woman was, of course, none other than the lovely young ballet dancer, Meg Giry.

'They have gone.' she thought to herself, 'I hope Christine is alright.' As she thought this she noticed something white on the floor. She knew what it was long before she got close enough to see it. It was the mask that the phantom always wore on the right side of his face. She knelt down to pick it up, looking at it for a few moments before standing once again and continuing her search around the lair.

She looked at the mask in her hand. Since she was young she had always wondered why he had worn the mask. Everyone at the Opera Populaire had their own version of why the phantom wore the mask, but they were all rumors and tall tales, for no one ever really knew why...that is, no one really knew until that night.

As Meg recalled the events that happened no more than an hour before, she could remember Christine and the phantom singing on the opera stage, carrying on as if it were part of the show. She, along with her mother, Madame Giry, the Vicomte Raoul de Chagny, the managers, Andre and Firmin, and most of the other opera dancers and stage hands, had realized who he was probably around the same time Christine had. It was only a matter of time before the rest of the audience figured out.

Meg could see that Christine was gathering courage throughout the entire performance. For what? Meg did not know.

It was all made clear, however, when Christine had pulled off the phantom's mask to reveal his poor, deformed self to everyone in the opera house. Meg had gasped, unable to scream. The sight had been so terrifying, but she was not afraid. On the contrary, she found him more terrifying when he wore a mask.

She watched him as he looked from Christine to the audience and back to Christine. She could see it in his face; he had been betrayed. It was in this moment that she had felt sympathy and pity for him. It had to hurt, to be betrayed by the one person you loved most in the world.

She was pulled from her thoughts as one of the opera dancers put his hand on her shoulder. "Meg," he said, "you shouldn't be down here. The murderer could be anywhere, and he will not hesitate to kill, not even a woman."

She looked at him, slightly irritated. He had basically just told her that this was 'no place for a woman.' "Thank you for your concern, Willoughby," she replied coolly, "but I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself." She pulled away from him and walked over toward the organ. "Who does he think he is! 'He will not hesitate to kill a woman'! Rubbish! He doesn't even know him!" She stopped to think, "But, then again, neither do I. Who am I to say he wouldn't kill me?" She sighed.

This was all a mess. The man was heartbroken, and of course it doesn't give him the right to murder and kidnap, but can anyone really blame him? Meg could only imagine what his life was like. It had to be painful. Forced to live down in the cold, dark cellars of an opera house. Forced to be hidden from the world because you were born deformed. She felt her heart breaking, how could anyone endure such cruelty? Yet he had. For so many years, he had endured the pain and cruelty of others, and suffered through it all on his own. Such torture could make any man go mad, so it was only a matter of time before he cracked.

She lightly ran her fingers over the keys of the organ, the organ that she had so often heard in the darkness of the night, and she knew she would never hear again. Her eyes trailed from the organ to the many shards of glass that had been scattered upon the floor, obviously pieces from the shattered mirrors that overlooked them. Her eyes, which were already full of sadness for this poor man, filled with even more pity. She knew he was the one who had broken them, though out of anger, sadness, or both, she did not know.

As she looked over all the glass, she noticed that some glass on the floor was beneath a velvet curtain. Curiously, she walked to the curtain and pulled it back ever so slightly. Her eyes widened. Behind the curtain was a shattered mirror that had been broken through and lead to a secret passageway. 'This must be how he escaped!' She thought to herself.

She looked around, making sure no one was watching her. No one was even looking her way, but rather looking through all the phantom's things. They had obviously given up the search for him. She looked disgusted at their behavior. Going through other people's things, invading privacy, and, as they had constantly reminded her, he was a murderer! How could they have given up a search for a murderer so quickly! How disgusting, she couldn't even bare to look at them anymore.

She picked up a lantern that one of the opera dancers had set down, looked around just once more to be absolutely sure no one saw her, and then quickly went through the broken mirror into the dark corridor. Making sure the velvet curtain had closed behind her so that no one would find it, she headed down the blackened hall, her lantern the only light breaking through the darkness.

The passage was cold, wet, and dreary and the smell was undescribable. The smell was so thick and disgusting, she wanted to vomit, but thought that would only add to the stench and held it down.

She seemed to be walking forever, not knowing where she was going or what she would do when she got there. Each time she thought of turning back she would keep reminding herself that she wasn't going all this way for nothing, which kept her going. However, after maybe an hour or so of this (she wasn't sure how long she had been walking), she was starting to think that maybe her pride was getting the best of her and it was about time she turned back.

But it was too late. As she turned to head back, a cold, dead hand clasped around her neck and pulled her back into an equally cold body. Meg gasped, and in the shock of being grabbed so suddenly, she dropped the lantern and the mask, both echoing through the corridor as they hit the ground. The lantern, whose light was dimmer now than it was a few moments ago, was just bright enough that you could see the mask that sat beside it.

Meg's hands reached for her neck and she grabbed the man's arm tightly, gasping for breath. His fingers that encircled her neck tightened as she had tightened her grip on his arm. His voice was dripping with venom as he spoke viciously into her ear, "You have just made the biggest mistake of your life."

AN: What d'you think! I hope I didn't rush it along too much. Oh, and many thanks to my friend, Shannon, who helped me introduce the phantom in this here ficcie!