Everything and Nothing

Notes- All right, I wasn't being completely fair in the last chapter. I did drop one or two hints about what Erik would do Meg-wise, but not clearly enough, I don't think. It's not what you're all expecting, though, so don't worry. Leave that to Christine… Anyway, enjoy.

Chapter Nine: Desolate Little Daae

Christine appeared to be rather puzzled when she woke up the next morning, surrounded by her usual friends in the dormitory.

Well, almost all of her friends. One was conspicuously missing, even though she'd been with the other girls when they'd all fallen asleep the night before.

My pupil blinked once or twice, then rubbed at her eyes. Then she blinked once more. Still nothing; Meg was nowhere in sight.

Frowning slightly, she looked around at the others, even going so far as to poke one of her other friends and ask where Meg might be. The other girl gave a shrug and went back to washing her face.

I had to leave after that, because a few of the littles were already dressing for the day. And despite what Joseph Buquet may say about a ghost, I was not that sort of phantom. I would leave that to him, as long as he never actually set eyes on my Christine when she was vulnerable…

A short while later, the puzzled expression was still growing as Christine ate her breakfast, looking up and down the tables set out for morning meals. A few of the stagehands had joined the children for the morning, complaining about the backbreaking work they were required to do today; moving scenery, checking the quality of the props, that sort of thing.

But no Meg was to be found.

Finally, Madame Giry made her appearance, but something looked a little odd about her this morning. She seemed to hunch ever so slightly over her cane, where before she had always had perfect posture. Her walking was swift like usual, but not in the confident sort of manner; it was almost frantic, like she was trying to tell everyone to work, and work now, and work fast; because otherwise something bad would happen.

Christine, of course, didn't really notice these changes except perhaps on a subconscious level. But she wasn't one to leave someone who was having troubles alone; she immediately hopped off of her seat, walked over and tugged on Madame Giry's dress.

"Madame, where's Meg?" she asked simply.

The elder Giry stared at Christine for a moment, her expression unreadable. Then she covered her face with one hand and turned her head away, closing her eyes.

Christine stared, realizing that something must be very, very wrong for Madame Giry to act like this. "Madame?"

"She's… gone," Madame Giry whispered, just loudly enough for Christine alone to hear.

The young lady stepped back, her eyes wide. "You don't mean- you can't mean-"

Madame Giry was silent.

"No. No, that's not what- she's playing a joke on me, isn't she? And I don't care!" Christine declared, causing a few heads in the room to turn. "I don't care at all. She can hide all day if she wants." Then, awkwardly, she added, "I don't care."

"Then you'll take your seat and eat your breakfast, dear," said the girls' ballet mistress, who had just entered. "We have much to do today."

Oddly enough, Christine didn't have much of an appetite after that.

During rehearsals, I made my way out of the Opera Populaire, my hood covering most of my face. It was slightly damp outside, indicating that rain had fallen the night before, and the sky was still overcast. And of course, it was cool, making me glad for the extra warmth of my cloak.

I had to do some shopping, but first I had to check on how things were going in a certain little home…

"I wanna go outside," Meg insisted as I slipped into a good spot just outside her window.

"Now, Mademoiselle, you know as well as I do what your Mama said," an unfamiliar woman's voice said firmly. "You're not to go outside what with you being under the weather like this. What if it got worse? You know your Mama doesn't want to call in a doctor. You know how she feels about that."

I peeked in to see that everything was in order. Meg was in bed, looking tired and more than a little irritated for being forced to stay at home today. The woman Madame Giry had hired for today was moving about, tending both a fire, a meal and the little girl all at once.

"She doesn't have to. I'm fine," Meg said stubbornly, sniffling and wiping her nose.

"I'm sure you are. Humor me, my dear. I need this job for the day as much as your Mama needed you to be watched over."

Meg sighed. "Whatever."

"Now lie down and try to get some rest."

"I'm not tired."

"You certainly are. Look at you, your eyes are drooping."

In fact, all of Meg was sort of drooping to one side.

"No 'm not," Meg protested quietly. Then she let her head drop back onto her pillow.

And she promptly began to snore.

I chuckled softly, and then turned on the little house and back towards the Opera Populaire. It was time to see how my pupil was faring.