Meg laughed happily as she got out of the carriage and looked at the Opera Populaire from top to bottom, in all its former glory. It was again breathtakingly grand and beautiful. She grabbed her bags and ran into the building before Madame Giry could instruct her otherwise.

She ran to the stage (knocking into a few poor souls who were carrying in dressers and mirrors) with a dreamy smile on her face. She bent down and felt the new wood underneath her.

She couldn't wait to dance on the stage again, with the bright lights shining on her and the music playing in the background. Too long had she danced without music. She had practiced in her little dusty room on top of the bakery, calling up past pieces from her memories; but she'd much rather dance to a real orchestra playing in front of her.

She couldn't wait until life was just like how it was before. Well, as close as it could get to "before" at least.

She looked around her wonderingly and realized that the only place she would ever feel comfortable was here. It was such a strange place to consider a home. She was sure that many women would desire great mansions, with many servants to pamper them…but not she. I'm perfectly content right here, she thought. Right here where I can dance whenever I want, just dance…and maybe even sing.

Oh she had no plans on being the next "La Carlotta" (heaven forbid!) or "Christine Daae," but she enjoyed singing, and she would be glad to have occasional singing parts in the operas…

Erik smirked as he put the wax seal on the envelopes. He wondered how his letters would be received this time around. He held the two envelopes – one to each manager – in his gloved hands and paused for a moment.

Perhaps it would be too soon to tell them of his existence. He couldn't have them panicking and then closing down the opera, could he? If they did so, he would kill them for disobeying him, and then the already questionable reputation of the Opera Populaire would be further tarnished. Or if they didn't close it down, they'd go looking for someone to take their place, and he didn't feel like introducing himself to new managers again. Better to stick with the ones who knew first hand just how destructive his wrath could be.

He set the letters back on his desk, a bit disappointed that he wouldn't be able to harass his little managers for a while. But he was sure the waiting would be worth it.

He'd let them go on with their "rebirth" of the Opera Populaire and have them prepare for the opening performance. The performance will undoubtedly be spectacular and they would have their little taste of success; let them think that they had control for a little while. Then he would drop the unpleasant bit of news to them.

He was sure by then their penchant for money and their past experiences would allow them to gracefully accept his existence and demands.

Meg lay in her bed as the moonlight shone softly on her. She blinked, looking around the room, thinking about the girls sleeping in the same room as her. Several ballerinas had returned like she did. I guess the accident scared off the rest, she thought.

There were several new faces. They would have to go through auditions to see whether their skills were up to par with the opera's standards; but Meg was sure that they wouldn't have to worry about a shortage of dancers.

What she wondered about was who would be playing the leads in the opera from now on…

Meg turned away from the moonlight. She really didn't want to leave her warm sheets and covers…but she had told herself that she would rid herself of the dreaded mask as soon as she could. She didn't think she could bear being in possession of it any longer.

Softly, gently, she lowered her feet to the floor and picked the mask from its hiding place underneath her pillow. She quickly hid it under her sleeve, just in case she should run into anyone. And before she left the room she took one of the candles from the wall to light her way in the dark corridors of the opera.

The architecture was exactly the same as it was before the fire, so Meg wandered down to the dressing room that used to be Christine's. The more she thought about it, the more she doubted that the mirror still served as a passageway to the Phantom's lair. But she didn't know of any other way to get there; so she opened the door and stepped into the room.

The room was sparsely furnished, but that would be fixed in a mere couple of days, a week at most. She glanced around the room to look for the familiar mirror, but – surprise, surprise – it wasn't there. She supposed the methods which the Phantom employed to come and go from the opera were no longer secret.

At a loss, Meg sighed helplessly and trudged out the room and closed the door a little too quickly, breaking the eerie silence of the night with a slam.

Meg winced when the sound reached her ears and quickly ran off, just in case someone came around to see what had caused the sound. She stopped running after a few seconds, since it didn't seem as if she had woken anyone up until she heard a dull thud and a series of footsteps in the distance.

Looking back on it, Meg would admit that she overreacted, and that it really wouldn't have mattered if someone had found her wandering around the Opera Populaire late at night; but the combination of darkness, ominous footsteps, and being alone made her panic.

Meg ran as quietly as she could through the hallways, but as she glanced back to make sure there was no one behind her, she accidentally tripped over a heavy wooden chest a worker had carelessly put down to the side of the narrow hallway. She uttered a cry of surprise when the candle tumbled out of her hands as hit her head on wall.

After hitting her head for the second time in less than a day, Meg grimaced as she rubbed her head. She took assessment of her surroundings; noting that, thankfully, the candle just rolled on its side on the floor and hadn't gone out. After taking the candle, she looked up at the offending wall, only to see a narrow crack of a hidden door.

Strange, Meg thought, I'm sure they didn't build any secret passageways this time around… Then she remembered that her mother had mentioned a month earlier that not all portions of the building had been burnt down…which was why the reconstruction didn't take as long as it could have. I must be in one of the old parts… Meg mused.

Fascinated, and hopeful that it would lead to the lair of the Phantom, Meg carefully placed the candle on its holder again to guide her through the dark and grimy hallway. As stepped through the doorway, she found a winding descending staircase. After looking around, Meg took tentative steps.

After what seemed like forever, Meg finally reached a part she recognized from the night she went to the Phantom's lair. Relieved that she had finally found it without getting too lost, she raced down the watery pathway, anxious to reach her destination.

Sure that the Phantom no longer dwelled in the opera (they couldn't find him at the night of the fire, after all), Meg made no attempt to be quiet or stealthy, running through the water.

But her heart stopped cold when she finally arrived at his lair. The living space didn't seem abandoned at all; the candles were lit and seemed as if they were regularly replaced, and the place seemed significantly more organized than when she had last left it.

Trying to put those details away from her mind, she took out the mask from her sleeves, her hands shaking a little. She would just put the mask down and leave. As simple as that. The Opera Ghost didn't seem to be anywhere near anyway –

"Well, what do we have here?"

AN: Aaaaagh, okay, I will admit. This was a cruddy chapter...So many clichés, and it was so tedious…but at least now we can have some good E/M action, right? blah Reviews, thoughts, constructive criticisms will all be appreciated.