A/N: Here's more!
"What?" The Phantom said turning to face Meg, tears streaking his disheveled face.
"I can help you get her back! I know Christine better than most people, I'm sure I can help." Meg said, a little unsure of what she was doing, but nonetheless, it felt right to help.
All he did was shake his head back and forth and turn back around again. Meg sighed and stood up, folding her arms. "Which way leads back to your...umm...home?" She asked.
"Left." He answered through a soundless sob.
Meg took off through the revolving door and ran full speed, left down the uncouth hallway until she crashed into the wall, which marked a turning point. She continued right and finally saw faded light ahead that must have come from beyond the mirror's frame from which she had entered.
She climbed out through the frame and found herself behind the curtain once more. Voices still filled the cavern, the people must not have given up searching yet. What did they expect to find now? Surely someone must have informed them of Christine and Raoul's escape by now? Apparently not.
Inside Meg's mind, the wheels were turning, trying to think of a way to get this Phantom out of his Opera house. If she got everyone to leave here, maybe she could coax him out of his drafty sewer back out here. Yes...baby steps Meg...that's the way to go. She told herself.
Emerging from behind the curtain, Meg scoped out the few who remained. "There's nothing back here!" She yelled in her reserved worried tone. "He must have left the Opera House."
With that, the remaining searchers dispersed, Meg caught wisps of conversations between them; "The murderer fled with Ms. Daae!"..."He killed the Vicomte!"..."The Phantom of the Opera will be hung for sure!"
Meg knew now how rumors spread so quickly among the elite.
She stood there, she must have looked rather bewildered for the last man to retreat back into the watery sewer turned to her and shouted "Miss, are you coming back, or staying here to rot?" His scruffy beard and torch giving him a caveman appearance in the ashy light. Meg jumped as her thoughts were joggled.
"Oh, no...I'm just going to stay for a final look around." Meg didn't sound very convincing, but the man didn't seem to care as he turned and splashed away leaving a plotting girl in the smokey remains of the Phantom's lair. She looked around again, this time taking in its breathtaking beauty and mysteriousness. Well, it must have been beautiful before they had wreaked havoc upon it. But Meg could imagine how romantic it must have been, when the Phantom had brought Christine down here, the dripping candles adorning tables and mantles. Richly colored curtains draped everywhere and the haunting melodies he must have played.
If only he wasn't a cruel murderer who terrorized the theatre. She thought sardonically.
Meg turned on her heel and reluctantly headed back to fetch the Phantom. She hoped he hadn't tried to kill himself again...uh oh, her pace picked up at this thought, and soon she found herself yelling, "No! Wait! Don't do it please!" Until she came to the lever again which led her into the Phantom's room.
But he wasn't attempted a suicide again. No, he was precisely where she had left him. Scrunched up on the floor basking in his sorrow. Except he had retrieved the mask that Meg had dropped and placed it back over his face. Even though there was no reason for it now that most of Paris had seen him, ah well. Whatever floated his boat she thought.
Meg rolled her eyes.
"Come on!" She yelled, not knowing where her courage came from. Probably from the lack of fierceness from this pitiful heap on the floor.
"Get up already! Don't you love Christine? If so then why not fight for her!"
"And where have you been these past few months Miss Giry? Is that not what I have been doing ever since that pretty boy De Chagny came into the picture? No, it's over now and nothing can be done. Just leave me alone!"
"No! You will not give up, you must become man that Christine could have fallen in love with, the man she did fall in love with. Of course until you skewed the situation." Meg stated in a matter-of-factly tone.
The Phantom's expression became dark and he turned to Meg sharply, "You may want to choose your words more carefully next time," he said reaching for the rope which lay inches from his hand.
"That's more like it!" Meg smiled, "except perhaps a little less threatening..." She said, backing away slightly. "At least come back out, there's no one there anymore, I told everyone that you left."
"Really? Or are they all just standing right outside waiting to attack and throw me back in a cage?" He said standing up.
"Please believe me, I still think Christine loves you, she just well...got scared?" Meg asked and said at the same time.
A pipe began to clank loudly above Meg's head, and a knob attaching two segments of it gave way, spurting water everywhere, including Meg's head.
"Ugh! Please, let's get out of here." She groaned trying in vain to mop her hair with her hand. The Phantom didn't argue. They exited into the dark hallway once more and treked back silently in the dark. As they walked, Meg felt his hand brush against her arm as he searched for the wall to guide him. She shivered at how cold it was, it must have been the way he felt inside. Icy and withdrawn.
"Excuse me," she said awkwardly,
"Yes..." The Phantom sighed.
"I do hate refering to you as 'The Phantom' do you perchance have a proper name?" She asked not really expecting a reply.
"Well I suppose 'Erik' is as close to a proper name as I ever had." He said, his voice rapidly becoming more and more...normal could she say?
"Mmmm." Meg nodded in the darkness. The name to her didn't seem to fit him. It was so simple, compared to the semblence of the man behind the mask, he was a walking tragedy.
"Well then Erik," the name felt foreign to her, "I must warn you that, to put it bluntly, your dwelling place has been thouroughly sacked." She said as they came upon the mirror frame.
"Ah well. It wasn't much of a home anyway. Plus, materials can be replaced. It's not like everything actually belonged to me." He said. Meg agreed with a chuckle.
They both came to the frame, and Erik gestured for her to go first. How gentlemanly. Meg shook her head. Christine would surely take him back.
He looked around with a slight grimace on his face, at his once luxurious sanctuary.
"I told you..." Meg said.
"Well you certainly can't stay here, your lungs will be blackened by morning, you will never sing again." He declared.
"Well, what about you! I've heard you, and if I do say so myself, you are quite the singer." Meg said, amazed at how easy conversation came to her now.
"There is no music in me now. No need for song. But you still have the life of a chorus girl ahead of you, and can't afford to be hindered." The ballerina didn't know what to make of this comment, so she just let it go.
"Where will we go then?" She asked.
"I don't know...but it will be hard to get out of here now, police and firemen and spectators will be surrounding the place." He said.
"All your doing..." Meg muttered so he couldn't hear.
"Come," he said rashly, as he bent down to sift through some sheet music that lay at their feet, he picked it up and and strode over to a curtain, which Meg recognized as one she had torn down in her haste to find him. Erik came back with a ragged brown bag that he had stuffed the sheet music in, he grabbed a cloak from the bench of the organ, and with a grand swish, put it on and fastened it at the neck.
He took her hand and led her to the right wall of the alcove, there was a latch made of metal on the wall, how had she missed it before?
Erik saw the bewildered look on Meg's face and said with a laugh, "Yes, I believe I know this Opera house better than anyone!"
He opened the door, and Meg stepped in, followed by Erik who closed it behind him clicking it into place.
"Where does this lead?" Meg asked, whispering as though someone would hear, though that was impossible.
"You shall see in just a moment." He said a little agitated. They walked a few yards, "wait here," he said and reached upwards, moving something on the ceiling it seemed. A small amount of light seeped into the tunnel they were in and Meg saw soon that she was looking through a manhole. He hoisted himself up so he could see if the coast was clear. It was.
Meg, being considerably shorter than Erik, looked up, her eyebrows knitted. He clasped his hands together and she took the hint, putting her hand on his shoulder and stepping onto the platform he had made, she was boosted up onto the street, thinking how nice it was that she was wearing pants. She climbed onto the street and found herself only a few yards behind the Opera house. She gazed at it, the windows were no longer, rubble caked the building and sirens and hoards of people surrounded it. No one was looking in this direction though.
Erik came up after her, and stood up, his cloak trailing behind him, he was ironically sillouhetted against a full moon. His expression taut and rigid as he looked sternly at his old home. Meg stared for a moment too long at this picturesque villainy scene. He looked down at her, still sitting on the pavement and whispered harshly, "quickly come, we must get out of sight."
She obeyed his word and stood, following him as he dashed in and out of shadows.
A/N: So...yeah. I realized that Erik made a rather quick recovery. But I like him much better when he isn't depressed so...yes. REVIEW POR FAVOR!
