A/N: And the brownie winners are: Queen-Chick, JenValjean, Bergerac, and last but certainly not least MadameGiryMiranda. Congrats to all. Disclaimer: Do not own POTO. And Erik has returned to my closet : does happy dance :

Five years later

Erik sat at his piano, having recently made love to an overworked but thoroughly passionate Giry. She had left him to muse and to brush one solitary tear from his face. His heart ached for the woman and her secrets. Secrets of his daughter's parentage. Giry had not told Meg the truth, and it hurt him with the same force as it did her. He took out a beautiful pen and a long piece of yellowing paper. He would tell everything to Meg, whether Giry wanted him to or not. He dimmed the candles in his lair, and wrote out a letter with a heavy hand.

Dear Mlle. Marguerite Erika Giry,

No doubt you have learnt much about the superstitions of the alleged Opera Ghost. I am here to tell you that he does exist. Your mother, Antoinette Giry, has probably also told you that Armand Jules was indeed your true father. This is a lie. Do not think ill of me to say this, but I am your true father. Do not think ill of your mother. She was trying to protect your innocence and preserve you from harm. I do not have a perfect reputation, it has been scandalous, and obviously she wanted you to have no part in it.

But believe me when I tell you that I love you. Since I saw your pretty face I have fairly fallen in love with you. Meg, you have such grace that bequeaths a queen, and when you laugh it is like the music of church bells. Also let it be known that your mother thinks the world of you, and she adores you with her whole heart.

If you feel open to visiting me, your mother will no doubt show you the way down to my home. Hopefully when you are a little bit older, Mama and I can renew our love and bring forth a union between us both. In the meantime, you must settle for visiting me every so often. I do not decree it, but would find indescribable joy in seeing your face.

With fondest regards, darling daughter,

O.G.

Post Scriptum: I beg you not to hide this letter from your mother, as she will be able to explain the situation much more fully than I.

With deft hands he folded the letter and placed it inside an envelope. He then made an indent onto the wax with the imprint of a red skull. He did not address it, as he believed it might fall into the wrong hands. With the silence of a cat he stalked up the passageway in the back of his bedroom, and flitted towards the ballet girls' dormitories.

Giry, meanwhile, had donned more decent clothing and had taken Meg out in a carriage. The honorable M. Daae, a great friend of hers, had recently passed away. He had left his only daughter, Christine Katerina, in the care of Madame Giry. The girl was said to be the same age as Meg, and naturally Giry hoped the girls would become voracious playmates. Christine was said to have been pretty, with azure eyes and long brown hair. The Daaes' house was by the sea, and Giry had a long way to go to get there.

Erik stalked down to the rooms of the corps du ballet. Most of the girls were rehearsing in the theatre, the barre being in use. Silently Erik walked along the rafters, jumping to and fro from different ropes. Then he made his way to Meg's private room, and placed the letter beneath her pillow, shielding it from any prying eyes.

Giry and Meg alighted from the carriage in front of a battered house by the sea. Giry curtsied politely to the maid, explaining the situation while holding onto Meg's hand tightly.

"Poor child." Chided the maid, "She was only eight when M. Daae died."

"Mine was only three." Mumbled Giry. "But no matter, where is the child?"

"In her room." Said the maid, gesturing quietly down the hallway.

Giry entered the room, finding a solitary child packing hurriedly.

"Oh." Said the girl. "You must be Madame."

"Oui." Replied Giry. "I have come to take care of you."

"Merci." Said the girl, and curtsied.

"This is my daughter, Meg." Explained Giry. "No doubt you will become the very best of friends."

Christine eyed Meg warily, and Meg with as much trepidation eyed the strange girl in front of her.

"Hello." Meg muttered.

"Hello." Christine replied.

"Well, we must be off." Said Giry, interrupting the silence that was almost palpable. "Let me take your luggage, child."

She held out a firm hand to Christine, and the girl gave her some of her bags.

"My name is Christine." Said the girl. "Christine Katerina."

"I like the name." said Meg, lisping, "It is very pretty."

"Thank you." Replied Christine with the charisma of a duchess. "You can call me Christine Katenka, if you wish."

"Kat." Simplified Meg.

"Kat." Repeated Christine, and smiled.

The two girls watched each other with timid liking. Giry bid the maid thanks, then helped the girls into the carriage.

When they arrived back, Meg was in a whirlwind. She and Christine had discussed so many things. Christine said she wanted to be in the Opera, and Meg had wanted to prima ballerina. They both liked the sleeves on ladies' dresses, and also starlit nights. Indeed, they had many things in common, and when Christine had told Meg about Raoul fetching her scarf, both girls had exploded into a peal of giggles.

"He will be your husband." Said Meg cheerfully. "In a house by the sea."

The two girls ran into the theatre and collapsed upon Meg's bed. But Giry ushered Christine to her own room, and Meg felt the letter underneath her pillow. She opened it, and suddenly her face was crestfallen. Tears began to well up in her eyes.

"Mama." She whispered. She ran to her mother, with such a soulful look that Giry abandoned Christine to finish unpacking.

"Meg, what is it?" she asked concernedly.

"This." The little girl brandished the letter. "Read it."

Giry's eyes skimmed over the letter, and her heart went into her throat.

"Meg, come with me." She said slowly, and traipsed across the stage to a hidden trapdoor leading to the Phantom's lair.