A/N: And I'm back! Thanx to all the lovely people who make this phic a reality: QueenChick, TheQueenSarah, MadameGiryMiranda, Bergerac and JenValjean24601. It is all greatly appreciated. (And a special thanks to everyone I missed. Love you too!) Hope to see reviews and will give everybody a brownie if they do. I changed my pen name, for some bizarre reason. Hope nobody is irked. Disclaimer: Do not own POTO.

To JenValjean24601: In answer to your question(s), I actually started my personal ballet training at the age of three, and my mother's business (piano, visual art, and ballet combined) allows people to enroll at this age. Yes, I have reread my last chapter of this phic, and have realized that Meg talks with an uncharacteristic eloquence. I will try to fix it. Also, about my other fic, A Letter of Gorbeau, don't expect it to reappear for quite a long time. The characterization peeved me a bit and also the plot wasn't going anywhere. But expect something interesting about Javvie to pop up soon…

Now on to the actual story

Giry rested her head against Erik's chest, and kissed his face. He brushed her hair languidly with his hand, and cupped her chin in his hands.

"Antoinette." He said, "At last I am with you."

"And I with you." She said and curled up against him.

The dawn light streamed into Meg's dormitory, and she screamed.

"Mama!" she screeched horribly. "Mama!"

In a ragged nightgown she ran from her bed to the other ballet girls' dormitories, and aroused Nicolette.

"Nic." She said, her feverish and young tongue wrapping inadequately around her name. "Nic. Where is Mama?"

The girl collapsed in a fit of crying, her brownish-blonde hair tousled. Nicolette took the girl in her arms and cradled her, trying to calm her although she was as worried as the small child.

"I don't know Meg," she whispered. "But she will come back."

"Please…" Meg whispered. "I want my Mama."

Nicolette held her tenderly, allowing the child's tears to mingle with her own. The other ballet rats woke up, and some growled in disgust at the child's weeping.

"Honestly," said one. "I wanted to get some sleep. If this infant won't stop bawling I'll rip her head off."

Nicolette looked at the girl contemptuously, snarling in rage.

"You be quiet." She said forcefully. "Madame Giry is gone."

"Hooray!" screeched the one girl, disturbing the other girls.

"What is going on?" Said the second eldest, Fiona. "Nicolette, what is it?"

"Madame is gone." She said, stifling her own cries. "I don't know where she is."

"Perhaps…" Fiona's voice trailed off uncertainly.

"Perhaps what?" interjected Nicolette. "If you have anything to say, Fiona, say it!"

"Maybe it was the Opera Ghost."

At this Meg howled and pushed her head into Nicolette's chest.

"No Mama…" she screamed. "NO!"

"Meg," Nicolette said, trying to regain her composure. "Meg, your Mama will be fine."

Fiona went herself and soothed Meg by hugging her gently.

"Madame will be safe." She said smoothly. "Have no fear, Meg Giry."

Meg nodded, and let her arms wrap around Fiona's neck.

Giry, meanwhile, suddenly remembered her daughter in a paroxysm of terror.

"Good God!" she said. "Erik, please, darling, I must go."

She raced from the bed and pulled on her black taffeta dress. Erik got dressed himself, although not panicking, and kissed Giry swiftly.

"My duty to my daughter calls me." Said Giry quickly. "But I will return in due course."

She stepped hurriedly into the gondola and began to push it with feverish strokes.

"Meg," she sobbed. "She must be terrified."

The ballet mistress rushed up the stairs, across the stage and into the dormitories, where a vision of chaos could be seen.

Meg was sobbing, clutching Nicolette and Fiona's dresses with a vise-like grip. Some of the ballet rats were dancing a barbaric waltz, thumping their feet grotesquely against the floor, to a chant of 'Giry is gone! Giry is gone!'. Nicolette was perplexed; tears welled in her eyes and flowed freely down her cheeks. Fiona looked terrified; assuring Meg there was no Opera Ghost. Giry managed to regain her self-control in a matter of minutes.

"Enough!" she yelled, her voice hoarse and demanding.

The girls stopped their dancing and Nicolette, Fiona and Meg looked up in relief. Meg ran to her mother, the tears running down her face.

"Mama!' she cried.

"Meg!" Giry exclaimed in return.

She held her daughter to her chest and murmured words of contentment.

"If I may," said Nicolette slowly. "May I ask what happened, Madame?"

"It is none of your concern. What I do with my life is my own business." She said tersely, hiding her soiree with Erik. "But," she said slowly. "Thank you, Mademoiselle, for looking after my child. My apologies." She laid a hand on Nicolette's shoulder, and dismissed her silently.

Then Giry went about her business, saying to the ballet rats:

"Now you must practice. None of you shall dance well otherwise."

The girls resignedly went out to the barre and began to do their plies and tendues.

Meg went back and laid her head on her pillow.

"Mama?" she asked when Giry entered their small room. "Is there an Opera Ghost?"

Giry sat down on the child's bed and looked at her tearfully. She longed to tell Meg that there was, a man called Erik, her father. But in her heart she knew she couldn't, and so resigned herself by placing a firm hand on her daughter's shoulder.

"There is no Opera Ghost." She said simply. "But there is an Angel."

A/N: Sorry about the shortness of the chapter. More things left to come...dun dun dun. The next chapter will announce all the brownie-winners. Oh, and Bergerac, I want Erik back. Now.