A/N: I humbly beg forgiveness for being so horribly late-no real excuse, just been preoccupied (mostly just watching The Movie over and over again). Enjoy and review!

Madame Giry's visit had thrown him so off balance that he had forgotten the errand Remy had embarked upon. Now, looking at her, he wished he had found a way to make her wait until he could do it himself; she looked thoroughly rattled by the venture. He noticed that she had returned without a lantern; he knew from experience that wandering in sewer tunnels without light was harrowing at best.

Even with that regret firmly in mind, he could not help but be amused by her reaction to Madame Giry; Remy looked for all the world like one of the many ballet rats that the woman had frightened into greatness. He felt a little sorry for her, she looked so intimidated by the older woman's presence, but the way her eyes widened under Giry's icy gaze was truly priceless. Even he, in all his rage, had never set her speechless like this.

He did hope that Giry would go easy on the poor girl; she had been through so much in a few short weeks, the last thing she needed was to be scrutinized by a woman famous for her ability to find faults in young women. Thankfully, the older woman seemed to hear his silent plea, and adopted a more conversational tone. Normally, he would not have liked anyone commenting on certain facets of his character, but if they needed to discuss him in order to bond, he did not mind. He saw Remy visibly relax, and breathed a sigh of relief.

"Really, Erik, what have you been making this poor girl do? She looks terrible!" Her tone was joking, but there was concern in her eyes.

"She was taking care of some things that needed to be disposed of." He replied tersely. There was no need to earn any more of her ill opinion that he had with his past escapades. She didn't appear satisfied with his answer, though, and he had never really been able to keep the truth from her for long.

"Bodies, actually. We were attacked."

Madame Giry turned to face him, lifting one eyebrow high in an expression he knew so well.

"It's a rather long story, I'm afraid." Remy cut in. "And not at all Erik's fault, I might add."

Now Madame Giry turned her disapproval on poor Remy. "You are awfully quick to defend him, Mademoiselle."

"If you must know, Madame, I was disposing of the bodies of men that I killed. Erik was, in fact, merely a bystander. I am not defending him, I am stating the events as they occurred."

There was the Remy he admired so much. He didn't like being relegated to the role of bystander, but her eagerness to clear his honor at her own expense was touching.

"I see." Madame Giry looked unconvinced.

For reasons beyond my own comprehension, I hated the thought that this Giry woman would think badly of Erik. I did not know what their relationship was, but I fancied I could see the pain in his eyes when she assumed that he had killed once more. Who was she to come dancing into Erik's home and accuse him of murder?

"What brings you to the opera house, Madame?"

"I wished to assure myself of Erik's continued health."

There was guilt in her voice, barely detectable, but enough to make me suspicious. "Had you a specific reason for believing his health might be in some jeopardy?"

The woman straightened her already poker-stiff back, and glanced from Erik to me and back again.

"I am actually here to ask Erik's forgiveness. The intruders-the men you killed, mademoiselle- I told them how to get here. I revealed the entrance to them."

Erik's face grew paler than usual, and his hands clenched into fists. Madame Giry drew a shuddering breath.

"You are bent on my destruction, aren't you, Madame?" His voice was so cold that I shook, even though his rage was not aimed at me. "First you lead the Viscomte straight to me, then you reveal my presence to men who almost killed me. What should I expect next?"

"Erik, you must understand-"

"Understand what? That you, who brought me here in the first place, would be the cause of my destruction? Why? In God's name, why?"

So, she was the reason he lived here. I had often wondered how it was he had ended up below the opera house, and wished I could ask, but it didn't seem appropriate to interrupt. Erik's face was contorted beneath the mask, and he was trembling with the strength of his anger. No wonder, when he had just been betrayed by someone he so obviously respected.

"They threatened my daughter, Erik, there was nothing else I could do. I would have gone to the police, but your living situation really would preclude me from doing so, don't you think?" There was sadness in her voice now, buried though it was underneath layers of politeness and restraint.

I watched the scene unfold, feeling very far away. Neither took any notice of me, so intent they were on each other.

"You could have lied, Madame! You could have come and warned me! You could have done any number of things, but you didn't! Why? Is this some form of revenge?

"Revenge? Only a mind like yours would assume that."

Actually, I might have assumed the same thing, but again, pointing that out would hardly contribute a great deal to the discussion.

"For Christine! For the Opera Populaire! For Piangi! Take your pick!"

"I blame myself for Christine as much as I blame you, Erik. I watched it happen, and was too afraid to stop it. The same goes for the opera house and for Piangi-they were all part of the same disaster."

I got the feeling that I shouldn't be here, watching these two tear at each other, so I edged out of the room, and down the stairs, with the intention of washing the worst of the slime off me. As I crept down the hall, I was almost missed the sound of softly shuffling feet, my ears still ringing with Erik's angry words. I stopped in my tracks, the whirled around and sprinted down the hall to the mirror room door, where for the second time in a few short hours, I nearly collided with someone.

This time it was a young girl, no more than nineteen, with a cherub-like face, and long golden hair tied back in a way that accentuated her round features. There was no doubt in my mind that this girl was related to Madame Giry, probably her daughter. Her features were softer than her mother's, but the eyes, nose, and chin were the same.

She was now wearing the expression of a startled rabbit, so I forced out a strained smile to try to put her at her ease. She looked warily back at me, big blue eyes wide.

"I'm not going to bite, you know." I tried to sound jesting, but it came out harsher than I intended, and she stuttered for a moment, trying to think of something to say.

"I'm Remy." I interrupted. "And you are?"

"Meg...Meg Giry. Pleased to meet you." She gave an elegant dancer's curtsy, which I returned with much less grace.

"Madame Giry's daughter, I assume?" She nodded her head, curls bouncing, then inclined her ear toward the little room, where Erik and the elder Giry were still presumably talking. Now I could only hear hushed voices, so I hoped that meant Giry was talking some kind of sense into him.

"What's going on up there?" Came Meg's inquisitive voice.

"Your mother told him that she told the men where to find him, and he accused her of trying to kill him." She looked mournfully at the floor.

"She wasn't going to tell, you know, but they were going to kill me."

"I understand. The fault was partially mine anyway. They only came to kill me, and Erik was in the way."

"Kill you? Why?" Her voice was tinged with the excitement of a child about to hear an amusing story.

"I wouldn't marry one of them."

"Because you knew how horrible he was?"

"It wasn't hard to figure out after he accused me of murder and witchcraft." She gasped in shock.

"And Erik rescued you?"

"Something like that." I wasn't in the mood to give my whole story to this girl. Especially when I was feeling a little jealous of her perfect looks. "You know, Meg, you could do me a wonderful favor..."

"What?" She sounded a little suspicious.

"Nothing hard. I just don't know much of what happened here at the opera house before the fire, especially with Christine and Erik.."

"Well, I suppose I could tell you."

I led her to a pair of chairs, and sat down, ready to hear what promised to be a good story.