During the last performance of Hannibal, Meg watched as Christine's face glowed with pride and confidence. She was so happy for her. Christine had deserved this moment her entire life; but, in honesty, she wouldn't be where she was had it not been for her 'great tutor', as her mother put it. In a way, Meg felt guilty for keeping such an extraordinary secret from a friend whom she saw as a sister.

But she had a duty, a promise, to keep. No one was to know the true identity of the man known as the Opera Ghost. She not only owed it to him, but also to her mother. Should any details of this man's life leak through the opera house, her mother's life would be at stake. She had, after all, helped a murderer to escape. She would not only be seen as an accomplice, but she helped to keep him alive.

Meg pushed that thought into the back of her mind and focused her attention back to her friend. Christine stole a quick glance at her, and Meg smiled encouragingly. Madame Giry placed a loving hand on her daughter's shoulder and gently brushed her hair with her fingers before turning to leave. Meg looked behind for a moment, almost stopping her. Where was she going? But she wouldn't leave until Christine had finished. She would be heartbroken if she didn't see Meg there afterward.

"Flowers fade, the fruits of summer fade.

They have their seasons. So do we.

But please promise me that sometimes

You will think…of me!"

The crowds erupted with feverish applause and cheers. Christine took her bow and smiled again at Meg. Meg returned her smile and then turned to find her mother.

She raced through the dancer's lounge and stopped dead in her tracks when she heard hushed voices.

"Please give this to her, Antoinette. Tell her that I was pleased. She did very well."

"As you wish, Erik," replied her mother.

"And one other thing…"

"Yes?"

"That boy…"

"The Vicomte?"

"Yes, Monsieur le Vicomte. Keep watch of him."

"What do you plan to do, Erik?" Her mother sounded concerned.

The man's voice became agitated. "If I had plans, you know I would not speak of such things to you."

There came a disapproving sigh. "Please, take care, Erik."

There was no response, but when Meg heard approaching steps, she hid behind a curtain and watched as her mother walked quickly past. There was only one person she would speak so secretly with, and it certainly was not a lover. Meg hated to eavesdrop on her mother's personal matters, but it was the only way to find out what went one throughout the opera house.

She let out a sigh of relief when she was sure her mother was gone, but she suddenly felt the presence of someone standing on the other side of the curtain. Tentatively, she reached with unsteady fingers for the edge of the material. As she pulled it back, she let out a gasp as the man in the white mask stood before her. His eyes gleamed with amusement as he sensed her fear.

"You were meddling in my affairs again, Little Giry," came his deep, exotic voice.

"It was an accident this time, Erik." Her voice struggled to gain back its confidence.

He smiled wryly at her. "After all these years, you still fear the Opera Ghost?"

Meg brought her eyes to the floor for a moment, but then brought it back to his penetrating gaze.

"It is not you, I fear…it is what I know you are capable of doing that frightens me."

The Phantom reached out and brushed a stray strand of blonde hair from her face. Meg closed her eyes, willing her breathing to remain calm.

"I have given my word to your mother. I would not lay a hand on you or her…I owe her my life." He whispered.

A cluttering of footsteps came from backstage as people hurried to the lounge. The Phantom took her hand and raised it to his lips.

"Until next time, Mademoiselle Giry."

And he vanished before her eyes.

Meg let out a breath that she did not know she had been holding. The bustling crowd charged into the room with open champagne bottles, bouquets of flowers, and other gifts. Madame Giry forced her way through from the direction of La Carlotta's dressing room.

"Meg!" she called as she approached.

"Yes, mama?"

"I cannot find Christine."

"Cannot find her? But, she was only just on stage!"

"I know, child. Help me look for her. If anyone knows her better than me, it's you."

"Yes mama. I shall look for her."

Meg knew that there was only one place Christine could possibly be after such an immaculate performance. Christine was a devout Catholic. There was no doubt in her mind that Christine was in the chapel…