It was not yet dawn and she had gotten about five hours of sleep. Meg stirred from her dreamless slumber and stretched her weary muscles. As she sat up she looked about the dark room to see everyone still asleep. Her blurry gaze settled on the empty bed next to hers. It was Christine's, completely untouched and unused. Could she not sleep as well? Did she have another nightmare? Did she even come to bed last night?

That matter could not concern her now. She would have to find her later. Meg forced herself from the bed and quickly changed into her practice costume and snatched her slippers. Grabbing a ribbon to tie up her hair, she silently she crept out of the dormitory and down the stairs.

Once a week for the past ten years, Meg received singing lessons from the man known to Christine as the Angel of Music. She would wake before dawn and meet him on the empty stage where he would then take her down to his lair. He took the main passage down to the cellars, the one that everyone knew about but rarely used, where they then came to the lake. A boat would be waiting and he would pole them all the way to his private quarters.

The aura of the place never ceased to amaze her. She loved the decorations and furniture, though most of them were just stolen stage pieces. The whole setting was romantic, in a gothic sort of way, with the numerous candles and velvet drapes. However, it was the large pipe organ that brought everything together. It reminded her of an underground palace, entirely devoted to everything music.

"This is where you live?" she asked astonished when she had first gone there.

He must have been amused by her childish awe and curiosity because he chuckled softly and answered, "Yes, this is my kingdom. And those who come here must pay homage to music."

"But I'm afraid." Meg said quietly, her head bowed as she stared at the ties of her slippers. "I don't know how to sing, monsieur…"

He got down on one knee in front of her and took her small hands in his. She looked up at him, the mask on his face almost completely oblivious to her. All she could see was a truly gifted man.

"You will call me Erik, and you need not fear. I will teach you how to sing, if that is what you truly desire." His deep voice was soft and assuring.

Meg smiled to herself as she recalled that day so many years ago. Her voice, though lower and softer than Christine's, had matured greatly. She met Erik religiously every week, and practiced on her own every day, but she made sure she was alone and no else one could hear her. She did not know if her mother knew, and if she did, she had not made a point of mentioning it. However, as far as Madame Giry was concerned, her daughter's future lay in dance. Meg had no objections. She loved to dance as much as she loved to sing. It was in her blood.

While she waited for Erik to come for her, Meg began her dance stretches. There was no point in wasting any time to better herself. But as minutes ticked away and there was no sign of her tutor, she began to worry. He was never late. Or maybe it was she who was late and he grew tired of waiting for her. No, that never happened. She was always careful about being there on time.

There was a bustling sound somewhere off stage and Meg walked cautiously over to it.

"Erik?" she whispered.

Her only response was a soft sob.

"We have an agreement then?"

Meg immediately recognized the voice and stepped behind the curtain.

"Yes…" came the distinct whimper of Christine.

"Very well…I will come for you." The deep masculine voice responded.

There was an eerie silence and then the sobbing began again. Deep down, Meg felt her heart twist in pain. She felt somewhat betrayed. So that was where Christine had been all night. With Erik…

Meg pushed aside her feelings for a moment and went to help her friend.

"Christine?" she called softly.

Christine gasped. When she came into view out of the bleak darkness, Meg could see that she was kneeling on the floor, hunched over and holding herself. He cheeks were tear stained, and her hair a mass of disoriented curls. Her lips were almost as white as her pale skin.

Meg dropped to her knees and pulled Christine into her embrace. "What happened, Christine? What's wrong?" she asked in her most sympathetic tone.

For a little while, Christine just cried into her friend's shoulder. Meg gently stroked her hair, waiting for her to calm down.

"It's all right, Christine. It's over now."

Christine pulled away from the embrace. The look she gave in response to her friend's comment was so unbelievably miserable, that Meg felt she had to fight back tears of her own.

"What happened?" she repeated.

"I…it was nothing…" Christine shook her head and looked away. "Just another nightmare. I couldn't sleep."

Meg frowned inwardly. She knew she was lying, but what had transpired between her and Erik? What could have made her so upset?

"You look worse than before, Christine." Meg said as she brushed aside some curls from Christine's face.

"Dear God! What happened, child?"

Both girls looked up to see Madame Giry, her face etched with worry.

"She was sleepwalking again, mama."

"You poor girl." Madame Giry walked over and helped Christine to her feet. She struggled for a moment, as if she hadn't used her legs for some time. Meg allowed her to place her other arm on her shoulder.

"We must get you to bed. You are over exhausted, my dear. Last night must have truly taken a toll on you." Madame Giry said gently as she and Meg guided Christine to Carlotta's dressing room.

Christine was only dimly aware of where she was being led, but when they reached the stairs she stood firmly in her place, her eyes wide with fear.

"No, please. I don't want to stay in here. Let me sleep in the dormitories…"

Madame Giry frowned. "You will be allowed more privacy in here. Are you certain?"

"Yes, I'm quite certain. Please, take me away from here." She pleaded weakly.

They then made their way up the stairs. By this time, the opera house was awakening and people were bustling to and fro. As some of the younger dancers made their way downstairs they worriedly rushed to Christine, asking where she had been and if she was all right.

"Let her alone, she is not well." Meg insisted as the pushed their way past.

Indeed she was not. It seemed forever to reach the top of the stairs. Christine's every movement was slow and ungraceful. A cold perspiration was beginning to cover her body, but she felt terribly hot. The circles under her eyes made her look as though she had not slept in weeks.

When they did reach the dormitories, Madame Giry ordered everyone out and she and Meg helped Christine to undress. Meg took the discarded corset and robe and placed it with the other laundry waiting to be done while her mother placed a night shift over her friend.

"There now, lay back and close your eyes. I'll have a hot bath for you when you awaken. You shan't be disturbed, child." Madame Giry said as she sat at the edge of the mattress and lovingly caressed Christine's forehead and cheek.

Meg watched with the utmost concern. Christine's 'nightmares' had never been as severe as this. What she really wanted to do was sit and make Christine tell her what happened, but an interrogation at the moment was out of the question. Her midnight adventure had taken a severe toll on her.

When she was sure she was asleep, Madame Giry left the bed and walked out of the room with her daughter. It was then that Meg realized a white envelope with black bordering and a red seal was tucked within her mother's garbs.

"We'll bring some damp rags for her in a moment." Madame Giry said as she quietly closed the door.

"Where did you get this, mama?" Meg motioned to the note.

Her mother looked down at the envelope and then back at Meg. "It was on my dresser this morning. It is addressed to Messieurs Firmin and Andre."

"It is from Erik…"

Madame Giry held up her hand to silence her.

"You do not speak that name outside of my room. You know how dangerous that could be."

"I'm sorry…but she was with him last night, wasn't she…" It was not a question but a truth that she did not want to believe.

This conversation could not be continued in an open hallway, Meg knew. Madame Giry took her by the arm and hurried her to her room. They would be late for practice. With the door safely locked, her mother turned to look at her.

"What do you know, Meg?" her tone was full of warning.

"I know nothing of what happened last night," Meg answered honestly. "All I do know is that Monsieur le Vicomte was looking for her and came pleading to me for help because he heard voices in her dressing room."

Madame Giry looked down at the floor for a moment. "Then that explains why he has taken the opportunity to reveal himself to her."

"He is afraid that she will fall in love with the Vicomte?"

"Yes," she whispered.

Meg closed her eyes. Would it really be that bad if Christine fell in love with the new patron? They had already shared a history together.

"What could have made her so upset, mama?" Meg asked after a few minutes of silence.

"Isn't it obvious? The angel Christine believed to have existed is the very ghost who haunts this opera house. She believed her father was watching over her for years, but she has been terribly deceived."

Meg could not imagine the betrayal Christine must have felt. She too had lost a father, but she was not as privileged as Christine to have known him.

"Why couldn't this have ended sooner?"

A brief flash of anger passed over her mother. "And what did you expect me to do? As much as I would like to believe it, Erik has not always been a man of his word. If I did anything to interfere with his relationship with Christine, he would have harmed me or you."

"Well now he has mentally harmed Christine! Can you imagine the suffering she is experiencing? You were supposed to be a mother to her!" Meg cried, her anger easily matching her mother's.

"Enough!" Madame Giry exclaimed, her burning gaze challenging her daughter to speak another word. Meg exhaled heavily, her brow furrowed. She didn't like it when she and her mother argued, but their differences of opinions could not be helped. Her mother often said that she had her father's temper.

"You know very well that I love Christine as if she were my own. But could you not see that I was also looking out for your well being? I knew how much your lessons meant to you!"

Meg tried to hold back her expression of astonishment. So she knew after all…

"I pleaded with him to stop, but he would become so violently angry with me that I was afraid he would refuse to see you any longer. But as much as I was afraid he would hurt Christine, I could also tell that he felt a deep spiritual connection with her. For once in his life, he was beginning to experience happiness…how could I take that away from him?"

What her mother said was true. Ever since Christine had come, the notes that were left for the managers had been less threatening, but no less demanding. Things seemed somewhat peaceful, almost a silent mutual agreement between two worlds.

"And since the day her father died, I had not seen Christine so overjoyed. As long as she believed her father was with her, she was content."

"Yet it was only a matter of time before he realized that she was a grown woman and not a child yearning for fatherly protection." Meg added, her voice calmer, but still filled with concern.

Madame Giry sighed. "You are right. She has become a woman, and as an adult she will handle this situation as she thinks best. We can not approach Erik about this, it will only fuel his rage."

"So we just watch the already flaming fire?"

"No. Perhaps if we deem it necessary, we will interfere. But for now, I do not think he will harm her…Monsieur le Vicomte, however, is another matter."

What horrible outcome would befall the Vicomte if he experienced the Phantom's wrath? Meg did not want to find out. He and Christine were friends, and she knew Christine would never forgive herself if anything happened to him.

"I must tend to Christine. Hurry over to practice, lead the rehearsals until I get back." Madame Giry instructed.

"But, what of Cosette? She'll be furious!" Meg stared wide-eyed at her mother. Having Cosette's screaming protests was the last thing she needed now.

"Cosette is not the ballet instructor. If she has any objections you will tell her that you are under my strict orders. Now go." Madame Giry opened the door for her.

Meg sighed and walked out. As she walked to the practice room, Meg tried to replay in her mind what might happened between Erik and Christine. The only reason Christine could have come back so upset was if she saw his face. Those who had never looked upon the face of the Opera Ghost were always greeted with a gruesome surprise when experiencing their first time. Although, it was rare for anyone to actually see his face. Now there were only stories, such as the ridiculous ones that Joseph Buquet told, filling the minds of young chorus girls with nonsense.

She could remember the first time that she had seen him. It was many years ago, before Christine had been brought to the Opera Populaire. Meg had spent an extra two hours alone in the ballet room, practicing for the new opera production. By the time she had finished, dinner had been over and everyone was settling in for the night. The gas lights had been extinguished, her single candle her only means of light.

Meg crept quietly down the halls, her steps slow and aching due to the newly developed blisters on her feet. As she went to turn down the hall that would take her to the dormitories, she heard soft footfalls behind her. She froze in her place, cautiously turning to look over her shoulder. She could not suppress a gasp of fear when she was face to face with the Opera Ghost himself. His mask was stark white against the blackness of the surrounding hallway, her candle casting eerie shadows upon it.

"It is much too late for you to be up, Little Giry." His voice was so soft, Meg almost didn't hear him.

"I…I…I needed to practice…" she stammered nervously.

"You have been improving. You move naturally with the music."

Meg looked away for a moment, a blush creeping into her cheeks. "Thank you, monsieur."

"Off to bed with you. You have a long day ahead tomorrow."

She was hypnotized even with the slightest whisper. Meg turned to walk up the stairs, but she had the sudden urge to ask him how he knew who she was. But when she turned back around, he was nowhere in sight.

She had been fortunate that night. She was not threatened in anyway, only taken by surprise. Now that she thought about it, she had never looked upon his unmasked face. At the time, she had not thought it important as it had nothing to do with her singing lessons. Meg knew, from what her mother had told her, that he was horribly disfigured. But the mask only provoked fantastical ideas within her, not ones of fear and loathing.

'Everyone has scars to hide,' she thought to herself. 'Whether they are outside or inside us…'