AN: Wow! Many thanks to all who reviewed! I'm very pleased everyone likes my story so far. I worked hard on this chapter because, to be completely honest, I wasn't really sure what was gonna happen after he caught her. -innocent smile-

Laliel – thanks so much for the review! I'm glad you liked that Meg liked the phantom without his mask best.
Rue Marie – I agree. I wouldn't see the phantom warming up to Meg too quickly, so I'll try and keep that in mind.
To everyone else who reviewed, many thanks! -grins- I will try not to disappoint you in this chapter!

Quicky update: I fixed those spelling errors. Thanks for letting me know about them, Sarah! -grins-

Meg continued to gasp for breath. She was struggling with all her might, but no matter what she did, she could not break free from his grip. 'Why did I come here?' She asked herself in her mind, 'Why did I have to come here alone? What did I hope to accomplish?' She felt something warm and wet on her cheeks; she was crying. 'I'm going to die! How could I be so stupid!' more tears fell, 'Maman! I'm so sorry I didn't listen to you! I'm so sorry!'

The man holding her noticed the mask on the ground beside the dimming lantern and he became even more angered. "What are you doing with my mask!" He hissed, squeezing tighter. Meg coughed, trying to answer, but she could hardly breathe, much less speak. He felt her struggle slowly lessen after a few moments, until she finally fell limp from lack of oxygen. He let her body fall to the floor; she was still alive...for now.

Slowly, he bent over to pick it up and once again donned the mask that had hidden his face from the world. He is, as you probably already know, the Phantom of the Opera. He stood over Meg, the ever-dimming light from the lantern just barely showing him her face. She looked so peaceful, like an angel. 'Like Christine had looked...'

He pounded his fist against the wall. Why? Why did she have to leave him? His heart was aching and his eyes were burning. He felt the tears coming, but refused to allow them to descend. He pulled his mind away from Christine and focused on this girl. This foolish girl who thought she could capture the Phantom.

He admired her courage, 'but her courage will be her undoing.' He should kill her, he knew he should. If he allowed her to live she could tell anyone where she had found him. Of course, he'd be long gone by that time, but he still didn't want to take that chance.

He turned her still-unconscious body over onto her back and knelt down beside her. He took his hands and wrapped them around her neck. She would not struggle, it would be easy to strangle her, and she wouldn't know what was happening, so she would feel no pain. He began to constrict his hands around her neck slowly and Meg started to gag.

'Tighter. Just squeeze tighter! Make it quick. Just do it! Kill her! It was so easy to kill all those others. Piangi, the stage hand, and even the people lost in the fire of the Opera Populaire. The fire that you caused.' He had killed so many people, why should this be any different?

But he couldn't do it.

His hands loosened around her neck and she began to breathe rapidly, trying to catch her breath. He slowly picked her unconscious body from the ground and went back down the corridor. He would spare her life, just this once.

¤ ¤ ¤

Willoughby and the rest of the search party had left the phantom's lair, deciding that he had either escaped, died, or killed himself. They left most of his things there, as they were mostly old props from opera shows they had done in the past and were of no value to anyone. Some dancers did take some little trinkets they thought might be valuable, but otherwise, everything was left behind.

Meanwhile, the fires in the opera house had been extinguished and the mob who had been looking for the phantom came out. Madame Giry met them as they descended the stone steps in front of the Opera Populaire and ran to Willoughby, looking worried. "Victor, have you seen my daughter?" She asked him.

"She was with us in the Phantom's lair, but I told her it wasn't safe for her there and I assumed she left, as she had disappeared minutes later." Willoughby told her.

Madame Giry tried to keep calm, but her heart was caught in her throat and she found it hard to speak. "I have not seen her come out of the Opera Populaire, monsieur, and neither has anyone else. Are you sure she left?"

Willoughby nodded, "Yes, Madame, I'm sure. I haven't seen her since I spoke with her in that dungeon the Phantom called 'home.'" He spoke with loathing in his voice when he mentioned the phantom. He looked at the older woman, who was looking very ill. "Are you alright, Madame?"

"Yes, monsieur. I'll be fine. Please go and help them search for any survivors." She said.

"Are you sure?" She nodded. "All right. I'll be sure to keep an eye out for Meg, Madame. I'm sure she's alright. Probably helping in the search for survivors as well, eh? You know how she is."

"Yes, I do." She said, trying to smile. After many minutes of convincing him she was fine, he left. She knew now where her daughter was, and who she was with, and it did not calm her nerves. Her daughter was alive, of this she was sure. However, she was not sure how long she would be kept alive. 'Erik,' she thought, 'where have you taken my daughter?'

¤ ¤ ¤

Meg awoke several hours later in a soft, warm bed, wrapped in black silk sheets. Her vision was blurry and it took her a few moments to focus and take in her surroundings. 'Where... am I?' She thought to herself and coughed slightly. Her neck was in pain and it didn't take her long to figure out why. She shot straight up in bed, breathing hard, and gasped.

"It wasn't a dream!" She whispered.

She looked around and recognized this place at once. She was in one of the many rooms in the Phantom's lair. What was she doing here? Surely the Phantom wouldn't have come back here with a mob out looking for him?

She heard a noise from the other room and slowly got to her feet, tiptoeing to the door and, opening it slightly, peeked out. There, out in the main room, was the Phantom. He was picking up sheets of music, among other things, that had been thrown to the floor and she could see that he was cursing under his breath.

He sighed, looking miserable, and went to turn toward the organ when he noticed her watching him.

She saw him looking in her direction and quickly shut the door behind her. 'He saw me!' She began to panic, 'He's going to kill me! Oh God, what do I do!'

There was no way out of this room except for the door that she was leaning against with all her might, as if trying to keep him out. Like that would work. He probably could kick the door down easily.

But nothing happened. She stood there for about a minute before she realized that he hadn't done anything. No pounding on the door. No threats. Nothing.

Then she heard it; the most beautiful, yet sorrowful, song she had ever heard. She turned around and slowly opened the door, peeking out once more to see the Phantom, playing the soft, possessing music on his organ. She leaned her head gently against the frame of the door and watched him, allowing the music to caress her.

He continued to play, his eyes closed and his face mournful. Meg watched him for several minutes as he put his heart and soul into each and every note he played. 'Somehow,' she thought, 'in this moment... he doesn't seem so... frightening.'

He knew she was there, he could sense her presence and feel her eyes gazing upon him. He chose to ignore her, however, as he really didn't care who was watching. Nothing mattered to him right now, but his music. When he finally reached the end of his song, he stopped and sat there for a few moments, his eyes still closed, and listened to the silence.

Meg was sad when the song had ended. It was so sad, so beautiful, and, for some reason, it made her feel calm and safe, and she really didn't understand why. Though he was no longer playing, she continued to watch him, unable to take her eyes off of him.

He looked so sad; so full of pain, sorrow, and a silent rage. A rage that had reached its breaking point when the woman he loved left him for another man, driving him to insanity. This man had kidnaped Meg's best friend, his only love, and had killed so many innocents in the process of trying to make her his. And now, here he sat, alone and miserable because he had loved her too much to make her live the rest of her days with a man she did not love in return.

Meg snapped out of the trance the music had put on her, only to realize the Phantom was now staring back at her, his facial expression unreadable. He stood up and walked toward her, and Meg found herself unable to move. All she could do was watch him as he ascended the steps, their eyes locked with one another, her gaze fearful and his unfeeling. He stopped just inches from her and she gulped.

For a few moments they stood like that, just staring into each others eyes. Meg tried to make out what he was thinking or feeling, but he was like a blank page, filled with no words. She finally decided to break the silence. "Um..." She said, tearing her eyes away from his, "w-what are you g-going t-to do to m-me?" She stared at the floor, not daring to look him in the face again.

"What kind of question is that?" He asked in a cold monotone. Meg looked up at him questioningly and he continued, "I have no use for you, girl. Go home. Tell no one of what you've seen and leave me to live, and die, alone."

Meg looked at him, shocked that he was letting her go freely.

"Take the boat." He said, turning toward the murky water, "I assume you know the way, seeing as you found your way here." He added coldly. Meg merely nodded, not sure of what to say. "Then be on your way and never return." He said, his voice was low, cold, and venomous. Meg had the distinct feeling that she should go before he changed his mind, so she nodded and walked to the boat in the water and quickly got in, rowing away from him and the small island that was his lair... no, his home.

The gate closed behind her as she passed through, and she watched him get smaller and smaller in the distance as she rowed further and further away, toward the world...the bright world that would never accept him.

AN: THIS IS NOT THE END! (That would be a pretty stupid ending to a story, no?) But merely a cliffhanger! I was really worried I might have made Erik and Madame Giry a little OOC. Please lemme know if I did. Remember, this is my first POTO fic, so I'm still trying to get the characters down just right.
Also, I realized after I had written it, but there is one scene in this chapter that is slightly similar to a scene in another POTO fic I read, and I just wanna tell you: that was not intentional! I only realized this after I had written it, and I liked it too much to change it! So please do not say I tried to take someone's idea, cuz I didn't! Honestly!
Anyway, I hope you liked it! I'll try to get chapter 3 up ASAP! Please review!