I've had this sucker on my computer for weeks... but couldn't think of a good ending... I came up with this semi-lame conclusion three seconds ago and here it is! Enjoy-

Pax
It had been a difficult task to recruit new performers for L'Opera, for it was common knowledge that many of the finest had been employed under MM. Moncharmin and Richard. One can only expect that after an affair of that nature few would be willing to return, and such was the case at hand. Rumors told that L'Opera was haunted by the shade of not only Buquet, but the Concierge and Piangi as well.

However, one pair of veterans to L'Opera, namely Mlle. Meg Giry and her mother, waved the gossip aside and requested readmission into the cast. The new managers, having heard of both the young ballerina and her matriarch, welcomed them immediately. Mme. Giry resumed her role as ballet mistress and Meg, at once determined to be the most accomplished dancer in the corps, reclaimed her spot at the head of the row.

And it was on this same rainy day that young Giry marched down the corridor backstage, her golden head 1 held high. After all, she, being now nearly twenty, was the best dancer in the establishment and had become a leader and icon to the band of giggling ballet-girls, much as Sorelli once was. Two of them came trotting down the hall now even as Meg approached, and she recognized them. The first, Alice, with a small mousy face covered by chocolate colored hair in tight ringlets, spotted her row leader and scampered forward, clutching her small hands together.

"Oh! Oh! Have you heard!?" she cried, hardly able to contain herself , "Please say no, for it would be such a delight to tell someone first hand!"

Placing her hands on her hips, Meg endeavored to appease the child and at the same time discover her information.

"Calm yourself! What's this news that has you so excited?" She, silently of course, took pride in her cleverness, and waited for the answer. Lucille, the second girl, bouncing in her little pointe shoes, said,

"The managers have just hired a new chorus girl! Oh, you ought to have been their, Meg, for she had simply the loveliest voice!"

Young Giry frowned.

"And how is it the pair of you have heard her voice? Are the auditions not held privately with the managers?" Ignoring the guilty faces, she continued, "Besides, the auditions are done and over with! MM. Garnier and Amaud have finished hiring."

At this point neither girl could suppress the urge to explain and both began speaking at once.

"Yes, but she had such a pleasant singing voice-!"

"You should have heard her! It was wonderful-!"

"The managers couldn't refuse such a talent! They hired her straight away-!"

"I heard she was the orphaned daughter of a German duke! How could they turn down royalty?"

"A German duke? Where on earth did you hear that?!"

"David Sauvage, the scene shifter, told me!"

Meg decided at this point to take her leave, and left the brats to squabble over conflicting rumors. She, however, had made up her mind to seek out a more reliable source: her mother. Should a member have been added to the chorus, no one would know the truth better than Mme Giry.

Through the twisting corridors of the backstage and dormitories she went, brushing past the other dancers and help, pausing only once to inquire after the elder Giry, whom she was told was in the auditorium. Upon reaching the grand stage, Meg was surprised to find not only the ballet mistress, but also a damp, little creature in an old grey cloak and brown scarf. Mme. Giry looked up when her child approached and beckoned.

"This is Meg Giry, my daughter," she told the young lady, pointing with her cane. Tilting her head toward her companion, she said to the younger Giry, "Marie de Voisins. The managers took her on last minute for the corps."

The girl followed the aim of the stick and cast her great eyes onto Meg. She was a small individual with an overall look of fragileness about her skinny, young body. The skin, stretched over poor little bones, was lily white and although it was clear she held the potential to be a lovely child, there was currently an undernourished pinch to her cheeks that made her appear more cheerless and tired than her large grey eyes already expressed.

Marie nodded politely and gave a small curtsey, recognizing the elder girl's superiority in ranks to herself. Placing a hand on the child's lean shoulder, Mme. Giry said,

"She is to take up residence in the old dressing room on the west side of the Opera… the one beside the old stairwell."

Meg rose her gaze abruptly to her mother, who returned a knowing look. Marie appeared to notice the silent exchange, but said nothing.

"Would you show her the way?" Mme. Giry gave the child a small nudge towards Meg with her cane. Picking up a tattered carpetbag, she curtseyed to elder Giry and followed the younger. Neither spoke at first. Meg watched the new chorus girl curiously from the corner of her eye, and felt a surge of pity as she took in the weariness and sad eyes. In an effort to lighten her mood, she endeavored a simple conversation.

"Are you from Paris?

Marie seemed surprised upon receiving the question, but managed to answer in a soft voice.

"No, mademoiselle. I come from Lisieux, in the west."

"Had you ever been to this part of the country before?"

"No, mademoiselle. This is the first time."

"And how old are you?"

"Seventeen, mademoiselle."

At this her companion was taken aback. This little sack of bones was seventeen? Considering her general size, Meg wouldn't have guessed her over fifteen. Studying Marie more carefully as the new dancer used one hand to push her long, dark curls over her shoulder, young Giry realized that the creature had a feminine delicacy about her neck and shoulders and a gracefulness to how she moved (a clear sign of a worthy ballerina-to-be) that a child could not have possessed. Meg smiled. That made Marie second closest in age to Meg in the corps, and a worthy comrade.

Even as the thought crossed her mind, Meg felt a sadness come over her. After all, the last time she'd had a true friend had been two years ago. Before tales of terror became reality in L'Opera. Before a creature of darkness emerged from the shadows. Before He came…

"Mademoiselle?"

Startled, Meg looked up. At some point during her reflection, she had ceased to walk and now stood silently in the middle of the vast hallway. Marie was standing before her, a look of confusion and concern in her huge eyes.

"Are you alright?" she reached out as if to touch Meg's arm, but stopped midway and dropped her hand back to her side.

"Yes… yes, I'm fine. Forgive me, I lost myself in my thoughts."

Marie nodded faintly. The rest of the journey was made without conversation. When the reached the old dressing room, Meg found the key and, making an effort to maintain a steady hand, opened the door.

The room had not been visited since the performance of Don Juan Triumphant, and in the space of time had collected a thick coat of dust. However, once cleaned, it would appear just as it had two years ago, back when its occupant had been the new diva.

Meg lingered in the doorway, not feeling entirely comfortable with entering the room just yet. Marie stepped over the threshold, eyes taking in her musty home emotionlessly.

"Should you need anything, you can find me in the ballet dormitories…" Giry said softly, moving away from the door. There was a small pause, and then the faint voice from inside replied.

"Thank you, mademoiselle."

1 In the Leroux novel Meg is said to have dark hair, but I've become so attached to blonde Megs over the years that in my mind she does have golden hair...

P.S.
For all the bookie fans out there, you've probably noticed where I completely quoted and ripped off Leroux and for that I apologize. The words were too perfect to be true, and I couldn't help myself. For those of you who haven't read the book, I didn't do anything. I swear. I don't know what they're talking about... ;D

Pax