Disclaimer: I don't own anything to do with Phantom of the Opera.
A/N: I so can't type tonight! At all! Anyway, sorry it took me even longer to update this one than the other ones. I've been working on all three at the same time and I'm just not good at that. But I have it all sorted out now and guess what? I have no homework tonight? Isn't weird how in junior high they pile you with homework and say they're preparing you for high school, but once you're in high school, you have no homework? Which reminds me that I took a math test today and I really hope I didn't fail. Aaah!
Meg sat down on her bed and looked out the window. The ground was covered in frost and the windows sparkled from it. The moon shone down on everything and bathed the world in silvery light. The Parisian night was wonderful in its icy beauty, but Meg already felt icy inside and could not concentrate on that kind of beauty. So she instead went over to her desk where all her correspondence was kept. There was a new letter from Christine. She wanted to open it and read it, but what about the phantom?
She felt a chill in her stomach when she thought of the phantom. Meg opened the letter from Christine with a letter opener from her mother. She pulled out the creamy white parchment with Christine's light and curly lettering on it. She curled up on the bed and began to read the letter.
Dearest Meg,
I miss you terribly. We leave tomorrow and should be back at the opera house within a week. I cannot wait to see you dearest Meg. It shall be wonderful. Of course, I do love the company of my darling husband, but I cannot wait to experience your superb friendship as well.
Remember the time when we broke into Madame Tutiolli's wine cupboard and drank all that raspberry currant? Oh, we were so drunk. I thought Madame Giry was going to whip us, I really did! But she let us off fairly easy, considering how she had always ranted and raved about drinking. How is Madame Giry? I have heard rumors that she is sick, but I pray that this is not so and that the two of you are in fine health. Tell her I said hello, will you?
The reason I ask about Madame Tutiolli's wine cupboard is because Raoul has just acquired a new "talent." He learned it from this sickeningly sweet old woman next door. She has taught him how to make blueberry currant. Hers tastes absolutely divine, and neither of us ever pass up the opportunity to sit in her small but comfortable apartments and drink some of her famous blueberry currant. But Raoul's tastes absolutely awful. He has no idea.
Every time he makes some, he wants me to taste it before he takes it over the the old lady who taught him. I always say, "Better than the last," which is as truthful as I can be without hurting his tender feelings. I can't imagine what the old lady says to the abomination she has made her famous drink. Oh, but I do love my eager-to-learn husband.
I will not sing in the opera again. I know people have been asking, but I think it would be an insult to sing in the Opera House as I once did. I know that you will understand Meg, and I hope others will come to understand as well. I will always miss the singing. It was always such a great joy even for the short time that I was allowed the pleasure of being on the stage, singing my little heart out. It was wonderful. But I suppose watching other singers and leading a happy life with my husband will suffice. More than suffice, it will be even better. I am ready to leave the drama of the opera house behind. By the way, has there been any new developments? Any knew opera house drama I should know about?
Well, I should probably go. Raoul has returned and we must begin packing at once. We both seem to enjoy putting things off until the last minute. Love,
Christine Daae deChagny
P.S. Counting the days until I see you again!
Meg put the letter aside and smiled. She too was counting the days until Christine's return. She missed her terribly. She looked at the part of the letter that asked if there was any new drama at the opera house. What a tactful way of putting it, Meg thought. But no, there had been no sign of the phantom if that had been what she was asking. Speaking of the phantom…but it was too late to bring him food now. If she startled him from sleep…he would be unhappy with the new development of Meg taking over for her mother anyway, she shuddered to think what might happen should a strange young girl awaken him from his slumber. No, the best thing to do would get his food ready tonight and just bring it to him in the morning. And to be sure to bring him the letter from Mother.
She put on her slippers and a robe and walked down one flight of stairs to the third floor. There was a shortcut here on a long set of stairs that led directly to the kitchen. The stairs were rickety old board, and obviously no one else in the opera house knew about them. But Meg and Christine had discovered it one night when Meg had noticed that the wall looked incredibly strange, almost slanted. They pushed on it and discovered the old and unused stairs. They followed the staircase to the kitchen, and ever since then the cooks of the opera house had been noticing many sweetmeats and candies and cookies missing from the opera house kitchen.
She smiled as she pulled the wall/door behind her and started down the rather creaky stairs. Thoughts of Christine and she when they were younger were filling her mind more and more. She knew it was because she missed her and because since Christine was married now she would be seeing less and less of her now. Especially once she started having children. To imagine, the girl who had once found secret passages and stolen cookies with her would soon be having children!
She almost laughed as she pushed past the heavy tapestry that hung in front of the wall/door that lead into the kitchen. Then she quickly looked around, making sure no one else was in here. No one.
She pulled out a large metal tray and opened some of the cupboards, searching for foods that would last in her room for the night. She pulled out two apples, three cookies, milk, water, poured wine into the flask she always kept with her, and various other things. She would find out what Mother had always brought the phantom when she went down to him tomorrow morning.
Tomorrow morning! She would face the phantom tomorrow morning! Fear made butterflies begin dancing, twirling in her stomach. She opened the wall and went past the heavy tapestry, having difficulty getting past it and balancing the tray, but finally getting through. She thought she might have heard someone behind her, but dismissed the thought, halfway up the stairs. She was completely obsessed in her own thoughts and fears.
Then her foot went through one of the steps. She lost her balance and the tray flew from her hands, food landing all over the place and the tray making a loud clanging sound. Thank God it didn't clash all the way down or everyone in the opera house would come running. Instead it stopped just below where she stood. Or thought she stood.
She tried pulling her foot out of the hole and found it more difficult than she thought it would be. She tugged and finally bent over, pushing on the remains of the stairs and straining her leg muscles, toned from so much ballet, to get her foot out. She finally did and lost her balance and flew backward. She choked back a scream, feeling nothing but empty air behind her.