She waited a few minutes before she approached the organ. She was tired, she wanted nothing more than to slip off her shoes and sit down on the floor beside him. To close her eyes and simply listen as he played so beautifully.
But she could see that he was tired. She knew instinctively that he must have been for much of the afternoon.
He looked up and met her eyes. She stifled the urge to laugh at the mix of sheepishness and guilt on his face.
She tried to give him a stern glare, but knew she didn't quite succeed.
She went up the steps to him and gently took his arm.
"Erik, why must you be so stubborn?"
"Stubborn, Meg? I would have died long, long ago if I were not stubborn, as you say. Ask the Daroga sometime."
She had her little supper at his bedside and told him of the managers' plans for a gala.
He seemed to take little interested in the news, though she knew the mysterious Opera Ghost had always taken a personal and, sometimes, frightening interest in every production for as long as she could remember.
"They are only giving us a fortnight to prepare."
"A fortnight should be more than enough. You said there was no new material to be used."
"Yes, but…"
"Then a fortnight is enough."
Meg sighed. She wasn't sure how she was going to look after him and rehearse for the gala.
At least, he was getting stronger now.
And what then?
"They will announce roles tomorrow," she toying with her uneaten bread.
-------------------
That night, as she settled onto the bed near him, she could not remember being more exhausted
"Erik, will you talk to me a little while?"
"If you would like."
"About Christine?"
She felt him tense beside her.
"No! Don't ask me…"
"Please, Erik. I want to know what happened that night. I want to hear it from you."
There was silence between them.
"Not tonight, Meg. Tomorrow, after rehearsals."
"Do you promise?"
Another silence.
"Very well, Meg. If it makes you happy, I promise."
If it makes you happy…
As she let her tired body relaxed into sleep, Meg's hand slipped into his and he did not draw away.