Cylobaby: I think I would be scared about meeting the Phantom :

Sirrius's Sister: Yes, E/M is the best!

Phantomgirl110: Sure, thanks for asking!

DrgonheartRAB: I love E/M!

Scorpion's muse: Sure, and and here it is!

Justy or Don Juanita Triumphant: Thanks for telling me that! I took your advice during this chapter.

Twistedeverywayforerik:Thanks for the encouragement!

I love reviews! They're so wonderful, I eat them! Just kidding. But I do love them! Keep reviewing :)

Jen

His Dancer

Chapter Two

Meg woke up in the softest thing her tired body had ever laid in. She loved the smell of it too, like soft lilacs. She finally opened her eyes and gasped.

"So you've awaken," a voice said from the shadows.

Meg could just barely see a figure in the darkness.

"Who are you?" Meg asked fearfully.

There was a chuckle. "Who else?"

"The Phantom of the Opera," Meg whispered.

"Precisely. I'm surprised it took you long enough," Meg could feel him grinning.

"Why am I here?" she said finally.

"Simple. No one is left but us two," he returned coldly.

"I have my Maman," Meg shot back.

"She is not happy anyway. Your disppearance has made no difference to her," the Phantom answered.

"How can you say that! My Maman loves me!" Meg cried.

"Loved you. She doesn't love you now!" the Phantom yelled. "If she did, I wouldn't have brought you here!"

"Well, you've brought the wrong person. I won't be all happy like Christine was!" Meg said hotly, confused so she changed the subject.

"Don't ever mention Christine again!" the Phantom roared.

"Don't you tell me what to do!" Meg screamed.

Why was she arguing with him like she was his mother? She would get nowhere about why she was here if they always talked like this.

"It was a mistake to bring you here," the Phantom replied.

"It was," Meg crossed her arms and looked away.

Both were silent for a while.

"I'll leave you one day to think about this."

Just then Meg realized there had been an open door, and the Phantom waved his arm to shut it. Meg gaped at the magically closed door, then looked back to the shadows where the Phantom had been. He wasn't there anymore.

Meg hugged her knees and sighed. What was there to think about? She didn't like being down here, with no windows to show her the outdoors. She had slept when the Phantom left, then woke again, thought of nothing, then slept again. Now she was awake. Her stomach grumbled, reminding her that she hadn't eaten since she left home to go to the ruined opera house. She felt dirty, also. Feeling uncomfortable about bathing in the lair of the Phantom, she decided to put off her hygiene for now. But she was hungry.

"Hello?" Meg rapped on the door lightly. "Phantom, um, sir? May I have something to eat?"

There was no reply. Meg jiggled the knob to find it locked and grumbled. Funny how she had chosen yesterday to wear ribbons in her hair and not pin it up.

If I just had a pin, I could pick the lock, Meg thought sadly.

Then again, staying in this room might be better. Who knew if the Phantom could be right outside the door holding his Punjab Lasso? Or worse…Meg began to get a little frightened and searched the room to find something to use as a defensive weapon. She found some very expensive-looking dresses in a dresser. The next drawer had shoes and sashes and scarfs. The following drawer contained some undergarnments and stockings. All this made Meg feel very queasy. At the bottom drawer there were a few candle holders, good for throwing. Then, underneath the dresser on the floor, was a shard of glass.

Where could the glass have come from? Meg tilted her head slightly. It was not a very big piece, about seven inches long in the shape of a skinny triangle, tinted a light blue. The glass itself was quite thick and easy to use when close up. If used correctly, it could be a deadly weapon. Meg smiled at what was on her side. She stopped when she thought of the Phantom's advantages. He knew the place well. He was stronger. He was a magician. They poured out one by one and clouded Meg's brain, shattering her confidence. She finally tucked the shard between her side and a piece of ribbon on the dress she was wearing.

"Might as well go back to sleep," she said to no one, going back to the bed.

"Wake up!" someone jerked Meg's shoulder.

Meg's eyes sprang open. It felt like she had only been asleep for a second. She peered up at the Phantom.

"I heard your request for some food, and I went and got some. Here." He held a glass of wine, a small loaf of bread, and cold meat out to her. Meg took the food gratefully.

"Th-thank you," Meg said, shivering a bit.

"Not need to thank me. You'll be down here for quite a while."

"Don't you have a name?" Meg asked.

"'The Phantom' is all you need to know," he answered.

Meg put the food down. "Oh, really?"

"Really."

"Can I guess your name?"

"No."

"James."

"NO."

"Edward?"

"I said no!"

"John? Jack? Alexander? Kevin?" Meg kept them coming.

"I told you no, and I meant it, so if you don't stop right now, I'll—"

"Erik."

The Phantom froze in midsentence.

"It IS Erik isn't it? Oh, I'm so good. Nice to finally meet you , Erik, sir," Meg smiled, then remembered she was addressing the Phantom of the Opera, a murderer, and stopped.

"So it is," Erik muttered.

Meg bit into the loaf of bread, then said, "How long do I have to stay cooped up in here? Can't I walk around?"

"No," Erik said tursely.

"Why?" Meg crossed her arms and tilted her head slightly, her look for challenging people.

"Why not?" Erik answered through gritted teeth. "This is a cozy room."

Meg stole a glance at the open door behind Erik, then grinned.

"What is that--?" Erik asked.

Meg jumped up and bolted for the door.

"Hey!" Erik shouted as the ballerina slipped past him and out the door. He quickly followed. "This isn't funny!"

Erik caught up with Meg, who was apparently staring at his desk. He quickly gathered up the papered that were strewn ocver it.

"Aww…" Meg whined. "Those were pretty pictures of Christine."

"They're none of your business!" Erik said hotly, crumpling the papers up and thrusting them in a drawer.

"You're a good artist," Meg made too big of a smile, totally forgetting the argument they had had earlier.

"Go back to the room," Erik ordered.

"I'm not your child. If I'm to stay here, I get to do what I want!" Meg began to walk away.

Erik grumbled as he gave in.