-- thank you so much for my wonderful reviews, and I'm sorry for not updating for so long! I moved house and then broke my PC (gah!) but it works now and I have a lot of storylines planned out! Now to make them realistic, so on with the story! However I do need a Beta Reader, so anyone up to the job please let me know in the reviews --

Or perhaps not. Maybe, there was a way, but no, it was too risky. If he should let go of the little Giry's hand….Antoinette would never forgive him, and she was the only one who cared for him at all. She had saved him from the circus as a child and as a result of which had saved him from the hangman's rope. He could not let her only daughter slip into purgatory now.

Making a snap decision, he stopped to a halt and the little ballerina Meg slammed into him, almost knocking him off his feet completely. He turned, only to find the thick smoke so dense that to glare at the poor child would have been pointless. He could only see the outline of the girl anyway, so why waste valuable time?

Meg, however, couldn't see the reason as to why the phantom had stopped dragging her along. She knew that the fire that had by now savaged the Opera Populaire was not far behind them at all, and she could see no sense in stopping here and letting death claim them for his own.

"Please, why have we stopped?" She choked out, the smoke making her throat hurt, and she coughed and spluttered to try to clear her airways. The air seemed to get thicker the longer she stood in one place. Her head became dizzy and she blinked rapidly to try to stop her eyes from stinging with the atmosphere around her.

When after a few seconds the phantom did not answer her Meg became agitated.

"Please, sir, why have we stopped? Don't you know that the fire could kill us if we stay here? Or that if the mob have followed us then they could kill you? Please, we have to keep going, come, this way!"

Meg tried to yank his hand towards her, thus pulling his body away from the ever gaining fire, but to no avail. The Opera Ghost it seemed had had his fill of hiding from the mobs that threatened to kill him on sight. No more would he be that little boy with the bag over his head for fear the atrocity of his face, should the genteel ladies fait with horror. Enough. The mask was over. His first unfeeling scrap of clothing, a gift from his mother, who in turn had become so repulsed by her sons face that she had abandoned him to a circus, probably never dreaming that her son would one day become the feared Opera Ghost, a man of genius, and malice, with a hatred so deep that none could overcome.

Except Christine Daae.

Finally, he pulled little meg back to him, and held her tightly, as he would have held Christine, as a man holds his lover. She struggled, and opened her mouth to scream.

At that exact moment, the smoke around his face cleared and Meg was stunned into silence. The partially handsome face of the Phantom was stained with tears that ran unabashed down his face. The look of sadness on his face stopped her struggling, and she relaxed him his arms. His eyes met hers for a moment, and she held his gaze, unwavering and strong.

She gave a weak smile in his direction as the smoke obscured him once more.

He clenched her even tighter to him, and she did not struggle.

The Opera Ghost took a deep breath in before speaking close to Meg's ear. "Little Giry, you must take a deep breath now and hold the air inside of you." His voice sounded to calm in the commotion that raged all around them, but Meg was afraid.

"I don't like it…" She whispered back, clutching at the lapel of his now filthy and torn white shirt.

"Trust in me, Little Meg. I shall keep you safe, but you must trust me" He sounded so convincing, and it was then that Meg realised she had no choice at all.

She could leave him now and try to fight her way through the flames, but to what use? The flames would beat her back, and she would probably collapse from a rough combination of heat and exhaustion.

Or, she could stay with him and hope for the best. He wasn't likely to let himself be killed was he? Or did the betrayal of Christine burn so deeply in his heart that he had nothing left to live for anymore? She sincerely hoped that it wasn't the latter.

She leaned even closer to him and took a deep breath. The phantom smiled, a genuine sincere smile, and held her to him, before reaching a hand to the side of him, and flicking a lever that was otherwise undetected to human eyes.

The ground underneath their feet suddenly was not there anymore and It took all of Meg's self control not to scream her head off as she fell god only knew how deep into the abyss below. She took another deep breath when she heard the Ghost do she same thing, and almost cried with relief when her feet hit the icy cold water below her.

Beneath the murky waters of the Parisian sewers, Meg Giry fought to the surface with all her might. The pressure of hitting the water at such a speed had knocked her from the Opera Ghost's embrace, and it took all of her might to kick to the surface, which eventually, she managed. She broke the surface, and gasped for clean air, treading water in her ballerina's tutu, breathing deep breaths of air she thought she would never live to inhale.

Turning around in the water to see the Phantom, she was surprised to find him gone, as though he had never just saved her life. She swam over to a brick ledge adjacent to tunnels she saw shortly before hitting the water.

The ledges were slippery and the muscles in her arms and legs were lethargic. She scrambled to fight her way out of the water, which was barely above freezing. She made it almost to the top, and slipped back down again, the moss and mould growing along the sides of the bricks where the water didn't quite reach slipping through her fingers like grass on a summer's morning.

Meg gave a squeal of shock and frustration before her head hit the water and the icy water shrouded her body once more. She gave a few seconds before fighting her way to the surface and trying again. She got to the same point before she fell down half way to the water, before a pair of strong arms lifted her under her arms and hauled her to the top.

Meg had never been so glad to see anyone in all of her life. The Opera Ghost lay flat on his back, clutching his shirt, which was stained red with blood.

"No!" Meg screamed as his eyes rolled back into his head, after saving her life for the second time. She scrambled to her knees and lifted his head gently onto her lap, and pushed the hair out of his disfigured face. She leaned down and kissed his forehead gently, bringing a look of shocked surprise to the Phantom's eyes.

He knew no more after that.