AN: Wow, I never realized my chapters were that short. When I went to actually read it on the site I was like 'wow...there's barely anything in this chapter. I'm surprised people are still reading this!' (the chapters have a way of looking longer in those dinky document windows) So I thank all my reviewers for still reading the story, even with it's dinky little chapters. (extremely thankful)

sooooo I tried to make this chapter longer.

But yeah, thanks so much for the feedback, guys :D Your reviews keep this phic going. (loves you all)

I Love Gerry – yer phics are good! It was my pleasure to review them :D I shall wait patiently for the sequel to the oneshot (can't read the BB fic cuz…I haven't watched it yet! sob)

The Century Child - I'm really glad the pacing made you feel the story was more believable. :D That was exactly what I was going for.

Right. Will stop taking up space and get to the story now. Hope you guys enjoy!

Meg blinked sleepily, entangled in the layers of soft white blankets. She gave a contented sigh - it was so comfortable; she wanted to never ever leave this wonderful place...

But there was something hovering in the back of her mind. What was it? A part of her urged her to go back to sleep before she fully woke up, but the stubborn side of her was determined to figure out what it was she needed to remember...

…And since when was her bed so nice and relaxing?

Taking a few moments to fully realize where she was, Meg 's cozy little world of sleepy bliss was suddenly sucked away. All her worries came rushing back to her with a vengeance. How long had she been sleeping?

Then she heard her stomach grumble in hunger. She had forgotten all about eating, and now that she remembered, she felt hungry. Oh well, Meg thought, it wasn't like the Phantom would serve her food next to her bed, would he? But upon turning to the nightstand by the bed, Meg saw a silver tray with a cup, pitcher of water, and a plate with some buttered toast.

She stared at it. She couldn't trust it. Oh, but now the smell of the buttered toast called to her...and as plain as the food was, it was still food. Picking the piece of bread up suspiciously, Meg took a small nibble off the crust. Maybe it wasn't poisoned, maybe the bread was fine. After all, the Phantom was hospitable enough to tuck her in bed, wasn't he?

Meg put the unfinished piece of toast back on the plate. No. She couldn't start thinking that way. The Phantom was a cruel being, a monster. She was his prisoner, after all. And she had heard all those horrible stories of him since she was a child. Granted, she had made up a few of those stories herself to scare some snobby girls when she was much younger; but she was sure the horrible rumors about him held some truth. She had even seen some of his works personally.

She shuddered from the memory of Joseph Buquet dangling at the end of a long piece of rope. He was obviously no stranger to murder. And what he put Christine and Raoul through...

The sooner she escaped, the better...

Then a disillusioning thought hit her.

Even if she did successfully escape - and the chances were slim - what use would it be? He was the Opera Ghost; he would have his ways of finding her as long as she stayed in the Opera Populaire. And when he caught her again...

Meg's face paled. She was doomed from the moment she had decided to set foot in the Phantom's lair; there would be no going back now, she was past the point of no return.

Erik didn't know why he was still sitting at his organ. For the past six hours he had been attempting to compose something. Attempting.

He wasn't sure which was more excruciating: the pain of having his one and only love slip through his fingers, or the frustration and anger of not being able to compose music. Either one by itself was devastating to him. He lost no matter what. He laughed bitterly at himself. He just couldn't win, not once in his life. Not even just ... once.

He often asked himself what he was waiting for; why was he still in this world? He preferred to think that perhaps he was a pathetic coward after all...too damned scared to take his own life...

As much as he absolutely detested cowards, he'd rather call himself one than to admit he was a fool.

A fool, because hidden deep somewhere, somewhere, in a small corner of his heart...he dared to hope. He secretly hoped that the garish light of day would become instead golden sunlight that would warm his skin; that someone wouldn't see him as a monster, someone to rescue him from this wretched life.

Someone to love him.

But that hope was shattered, broken, into a million tiny fragments when Christine left. It was shattered, but it wasn't dead yet; and how Erik wished it was. Why, why, was it so damned difficult to kill this hope? He knew he was condemned to exist in this miserable way of life as long as he lived. Nothing would change it.

He knew, he knew.

So why wouldn't his cursed heart believe it?

Meg put her hand on the doorknob. What was she going to do? Stepping outside this room only meant that she would come face to face with the dreaded Phantom.

And his anger was directed at her.

How ironic it was that the room which served as her cage suddenly became a quasi sanctuary.

Not able to bring herself to open the door, Meg took a few steps backwards. She took a deep breath to calm herself...but she jumped up, startled, when the door suddenly swung open.

Erik cocked an eyebrow when Meg stood in front of him. He felt himself almost laugh – she looked so utterly shocked and speechless it was almost amusing.

Choosing to ignore the look of surprise on her face, he strode to the nightstand to pick up the silver tray. He noted that only one piece of toast had been nibbled on, at the most. "Was breakfast not to your liking?" He asked, leering.

"No, I merely wasn't hungry," the lie came out bolder and smoother than she thought it would. Steady, Meg, she thought to herself. She had to be composed. She refused to be some docile little captive of his.

She immediately wondered if that decision would ultimately cause her death. Being defiant against someone who could easily kill you at his whim was not wise. Her hands twisted the sides of her nightgown nervously.

Erik narrowed his eyes and twisted his mouth into a strange smile. "I'm so glad you approve," he said sarcastically. "Because this is exactly how it is going to be…for a very long time," he said, emphasizing the last three words. He saw panic creep into her eyes and felt satisfied, so he picked up the silver tray and made for the door.

"Wait!" Meg pleaded, trying to reason with him. "You can't possibly do this! Maman will worry – "

"I took care of that already," he replied coolly. "I had her go out to take care of some business."

"She won't be gone for that long; she'll notice! You won't be able to keep me down here forever!"

"Is that a challenge?" he smiled contemptuously.

Meg stayed silent and bit her lip in anger; she didn't dare speak for fear of worsening her situation.

Taking her silence as a sign that he had said enough for now, Erik brushed by her, silver tray in hand. But then he heard her utter something and pull on his sleeve. "You - You're bleeding," She said, alarmed. He glanced down at his left arm and cursed under his breath. The blood had run through the bandage he had wrapped around his arm, and now it was bleeding through the sleeve of his white shirt. She wasn't supposed to see that.

"What did you do?" She asked, almost in an accusing way, which only irritated him further. "Nothing!" he snarled as he pushed her away. "It is none of your concern!"

Before she could say or do anything more, he slammed the door shut and locked it.

AN: Man, this chap was...a lot of work. And I'm not even sure if I like it that much. After the whole M/E conversation I thought "Wow. This is just depressing." I'm hoping that I'll be able to make the next chapter one with real fluff, as opposed to the not-really-fluff-stuff I had last chap. And just what did Erik do to his arm anyway? Reviews, comments, advice are always welcome!

Oh yeah and um. Anyone know how Erik's bedroom looks like? (No…they're not gonna do anything like…that, but I need to know for a scene…) Is there a set description, or not? I read somewhere that he sleeps in a coffin...?