AN: Man, sorry for the incredibly late update you guys. My schedule just got extremely busy D: (and it doesn't seem like it's gonna get any less busy…so updates are prolly going to still be pretty irregular) and then when I found time to write this chap, I spent forever trying to make it longer (and it's still not even that long, blah)…and beware of some Erik sadistic-ness. I really need to somehow make him fluffier.

I think I sort of threw out the credibility of this story in this chapter too. D: If anyone has any advice on how to make this chapter better (or if anyone notices any gaping plotholes anytime in the phic), feel free to tell me!

And thanks so much for the replies about Erik's room; I really appreciate it! I was planning on having a scene with Meg stumbling into Erik's room…but after I wrote it I didn't like it. D: I'm sorry for asking you guys about some of the info and then not use it…I'll find a way to put Erik's room in somehow!

Note:

Tadreindra – No, you didn't miss anything! You'll find out :D

On with the story!

Meg stared at the door angrily. She was fed up of being shoved into and locked in this room. What happened to his arm? She looked around to see if there was possibly anything that could help her pick the lock.

When she was younger she learned to pick locks after persuading an old stagehand to teach her how.

Back in her childhood, she had been convinced that the Phantom dwelt in one of the mysteriously locked rooms of the Opera Populaire; the ones that her mother told her she wasn't allowed into. After all, where else could he live? For a few weeks, she dragged Christine through all the rooms of the Opera Populaire during their spare time, searching for the legendary Phantom of the opera. It was all in innocent fun; the young girls fancied themselves on a dangerous and exciting quest, full of adventures.

But of course once Madame Giry found out, she naturally put an end to it. And that was that.

An idea came to Meg when her eyes rested on a wardrobe in a corner of the room. She walked towards the tall piece of furniture and huffily opened the doors. She was greeted with the sight of tattered cloth and torn lace. They must have been destroyed by the frenzied mob that night. She had to say, it was a shame. Even in their sullied state it was obvious that these dresses were once of the most beautiful and elegant apparels in all of Paris. They must have been originally intended for Christine.

Meg felt a pang of heartache. She wondered how Christine was. She must be living very comfortably…Meg wondered if her close friend missed her company.

Pushing the dispiriting thoughts aside, Meg tried to focus her thoughts elsewhere. Perhaps somewhere in all these destroyed dresses…a small dull glimmer of something caught her eye on the bottom of the wardrobe. She bent down. Could it be - ? Yes! Smiling triumphantly, she clutched the bit of hoop wire in her hand.

Thank goodness for crinolines, she thought, making her way to the door. She bent the hoop wire the opposite way it curved so that it would become a little straighter, and she slid the wire into the keyhole until she heard a satisfactory click.

She pushed the door open a little bit and peeked out the small crack. She heard nothing, save for the occasional dripping of water from somewhere. Cautiously, she opened the door just enough so that she could step out. She looked around; he was nowhere to be found.

Erik sat comfortably in his seat in box five, ignoring the throbbing in his left arm. Today the opera started the auditions for new performers, and he was curious to see what newcomers there would be. Today the ballet dancers would audition, and tomorrow would be the singers. The singers were what he was most interested in; he was sure La Carlotta wouldn't dare set foot in his opera house again. Not after he had killed her beloved Piangi.

He didn't come today to see how the ballerinas would be. He left his lair to take his mind off Meg.

…Only to find that his mind would drift back to her. As he watched the ballerinas perform on stage he was impressed with their skill and grace. Was Meg better than them? He suddenly wondered. He had always thought her a talented dancer when she was younger, but once Christine came, he became too preoccupied with Christine to really take note of Meg; but he knew she was a wonderful ballerina from the whispers he would hear from members of the staff and audience, and that she was one of the best dancers in his opera.

But still…He raised an eyebrow as he watched another girl pirouette. He would have to have her practice. Just in case.

Meg wandered around the lair, glancing at everything she could. She didn't know when she'd be able to wander around again. Not quite trusting the silence around her, she tip-toed from place to place; her ears alert for any sign of the Phantom.

She was careful not to touch anything, so the Phantom wouldn't suspect that she had been up and about; but when she approached the organ, she couldn't resist sitting down and admiring the instrument. So this was where he composed his great pieces…

She let her fingers glide lightly over the keys, until she noticed a red splatter of liquid on the instrument, and then a few smaller ones on another. Blood? She wondered. Startled, she drew her hand back. She thought of his left arm from earlier.

Looking at the organ in confusion, her eyes followed the faint trail of blood drops down to the side of the organ – where several mirror fragments lied haphazardly. Why were mirror pieces lying here? Meg leaned down to get a closer look, until she realized there were faint traces of dried blood on the edges of one of the pieces.

She covered her mouth with her hand, appalled. Did he..? She took a few steps backward, only to find herself stumble into someone.

Her mind went blank from fear and shock. Meg immediately whirled around and instinctively backed away from the enraged Opera Ghost…

…and into the pile of mirror fragments. At once Meg felt something pierce into her feet and pain shoot up her legs. She uttered a gasp as her legs collapse from underneath her. She reached out her arms to brace herself from the fall, but instead her hands grabbed onto two sturdy and outstretched arms.

She didn't have to look up to know who it was, but her head jerked up anyways. Terrified brown eyes met piercing blue ones.

Meg felt her consciousness slip away…

Perhaps it was all a nightmare…

She was lost in a sea of softness again. She flitted between being awake and asleep, until a sharp stinging sensation in her feet brought her back to consciousness.

Her eyes fluttered open.

Her first thought was that she was not in her usual room. She felt smooth velvet underneath her, the lighting was very dim, and there was a curtain of sheer material around where she was lying. She could see nothing that lay beyond the curtain except for darkness.

Darkness that seemed to threaten to engulf her…

Alarmed, she immediately sat up, and was surprised by the sight around her. She supposed she was on a bed of some sort, covered in crimson velvet with a bronze swan as its bed frame. Still a little dazed from sleep, Meg's brown eyes trailed downwards to see her feet were wet, with a small basin with water beside it. Suddenly a shadow cast over her. Meg slowly lifted her eyes.

Erik could feel Meg's wary gaze on him, but he didn't meet her eyes.

He was furious. How dare she lurk around his lair? Who did she think she was?

He found himself thinking the thought that had run through his mind for the millionth time in the past few days: If she were not Madame Giry's daughter…

He tore the cloth he had gotten earlier into long strips and grabbed Meg's right ankle to start bandaging her foot. He must've been too rough though, because he saw the dancer wince out of the corner of his eye and heard her let out a small cry of pain.

He ignored her discomfort and made a point as to not apologize. But he did hold her feet gently now, and slowly wrapped the cloth around it. He wouldn't risk damaging her feet so that she wouldn't be able to dance anymore.

There was a moment of uncomfortable silence as he bandaged her feet.

"Thank you," she said awkwardly. Her gratitude was met with stony silence. When she realized that he wasn't going to say anything, she grew irritated. "And I'm sorry for wandering around," she said, not hiding the annoyance she felt.

"Funny, you don't sound sorry." Erik said bitingly as he finished binding up Meg's other foot. Meg scowled. "You can't simply lock me in a room and leave me there and expect me to be happy!"

Erik gave a mocking smile. "Oh can't I?" He put his hand on the velvet bed and saw her eyes widen a little.

Deciding to have a little fun by scaring the young ballerina, he crept towards her, speaking softly with an underlying threatening tone. "Considering I can dispose of you easily, Meg Giry," He began, towering over her and smirked. She glared back at him defiantly, but he could see through her façade; she was terrified. Leaning slightly, he looked down and felt satisfied filling the disrespectful little ballet rat with fear. "…if I were you, I'd be happy simply to be alive." He said, giving her another insincere smile. "However, even if you don't appreciate your current situation, you should be happy staying here, shouldn't you? There are no locks here after all," he tauntingly laughed, gesturing at the swan bed.

Meg was sick of this cat and mouse game he played with her, and she was tired of being treated like some sort of pitiful form of entertainment for him. She felt her hand jolt up to hit him before she could stop herself. Immediately she regretted her action and pulled her arm back, but it was too late; the Phantom had already held her wrist in a vise-like grip already.

Erik had to admit, he did expect Meg to rebel to some extent, but never to hit him. He was ready to unleash his fury upon the ballerina when suddenly he felt her arm jerk away unexpectedly, causing him to lose his balance on the bed and fall on her.

Erik's eyes widened in shock and surprise.

Emma Noble – :D thanks for your review! And I know the last part seems suggestive :X but I promise nothing of the sort will happen.

AN: Reviews, advice, and constructive criticism are always appreciated!