Wow! I was so excited about my reviews that I wrote this next chapter pretty quickly. It is sort of long. I hope you like it! Please keep letting me know what you think, it really helps me so much.

Chapter 17

Erik carried Meg into the cool darkness of his cavern chambers hundreds of feet beneath the Opera Populaire. The soothing glow of the candlelight that illuminated his misty lakeside abode was a welcomed change from the deplorable atmosphere that he and Meg had just left behind at the La Havre Inn. He wanted to lie her down immediately so he could properly examine all her wounds, and determine the extent of her illness from the liquor. Without thinking he walked into the room that he had once prepared so meticulously for Christine and carefully placed Meg on the massive cushioned bed.

Erik looked all around the extravagantly decorated feminine room. Everything from the fine dresses that hung in the closet to the plush colors of bedding had been thoughtfully chosen for Christine. He had hoped that the perfect room would ease her transition into living here with him in the basements of the Opera. But now Christine could not be further from his mind.

Soon after Erik had laid Meg down, he realized that allowing her to wake up in this shrine to Christine would only strengthen her belief that he would always love her. Although it was much more modestly decorated, he would have to put Meg in his own room. He would also have to hope that Meg would sleep long enough for him to eliminate all of the many signs of Christine that were so readily available throughout his home. He could not make her want to stay with him, but he was not going to give reasons to want to leave either.

After Erik had gently settled Meg on his ownbed, he began the daunting task of trying to bathe her and dress her wounds without compromising her modesty completely. He put one of his softer white shirts on over her vomit and blood stained clothing. Then he removed the putrid smelling garments from her body, allowing himself not even a glimpse at her nude form. He slowly wiped away all the dried blood from her battered face. Despite the abuse, her skin still felt like silk under his unsteady hands.

She had not thrown up since he had brought her from the inn, and Erik did his best to get her to swallow as much water as possibly could. He had no idea how much whiskey that pig Silvain had forced down her throat, but he knew she would be feeling ill and incoherent for a least a day or two.

Erik rinsed out Meg's tangled long blond locks of hair using a small basin of warm water. Every now and then she would let outa faint whimper or her eyes would flutter open briefly. But she was mostly oblivious to his touch. He bathed her with a cloth and lavender soap, so she would not awake to any odors that would instantly remind her of the torment she had sustained. As he bandaged the open cuts on the side of her face and neck he was overcome with waves of emotion.

Part of him felt immense gratification just having Meg there with him, being close to her, and being able to touch her. He could barely keep his hands from shaking as he tried to care for her wounds. Yet as he tended to her bruises and abrasions, he also felt intense animosity and hatred for the people responsible for her suffering.

I should have killed those vengeful witches when I had the chance, he thought.

After Meg was finally clean and her wounds were dressed, Erik covered her up and sat next to her while she slept. He was secretly reveling in the opportunity to be so near to her without her feeling uncomfortable by his constant gaze. He was completely captivated by every inch of her. He tried to memorize everything about her, so that he could picture her perfectly always. To him the evidence of her confrontation with Silvain was almostinvisible.

Although he could have stayed by her side indefinitely, Erik knew he had some rearranging to do in his home before Meg happened to wake up. Reluctantly, he left her to her peaceful slumber. Before he left the room he looked back at her, just to make sure that she was really there and that she was safe.

Meg arose a day ad half later to a spinning unfamiliar room and sharp pounding headache. Her stomach was sick, and her chest was burning. She wearily attempted to sit up for a moment to try to get her bearings. She glanced around the sparsely decorated room and tried desperately to remember where she was and how she had gotten there.

A few minutes later all the horrid memories of the inn and Silvain came flooding back to her. She suddenly wished she hadn't tried so vehemently to recall them. She remembered the hot whiskey he had poured down her throat and attempting to resist his advances as he continually hit her over and over. Meg reached up and touched the side of her cheek and then grimaced at the sharp pain caused by her own touch on her swollen flesh.

She then became aware of the fact that she had bandages on all her wounds, and she was wearing a man's clean white shirt. Her hair did not reek of whiskey and vomit as she had remembered. She tried to think about the last thing that she could recall happening. She remembered thinking that she was going to die in that filthy place, and then an image of Erik from the roof had flashed in her mind. She simply could not conjure up anything after that.

But clearly many events had occurred since then because she was indeed alive. Someone had come for her, and rescued her from an awful fate. Someone had taken care of her and bathed and dressed her injuries. Before Meg could begin to ponder the identity of this someone, she looked up to see her masked Phantom standing in the doorway of the bedroom.

He was dressed formally, but he was not wearing his black coat and cloak that Meg was accustomed to seeing him in. He wore his usual white mask that covered only half his face. Meg instantly felt very vulnerable under the deep gaze of his clear, fair eyes.

"Good morning Marguerite," he greeted her with his calm melodic tone. "How are you feeling?"

"My…my head, and my face… and I feel so dizzy," was the only answer she could manage to contrive.

"You have endured an immense trauma, Marguerite, you must try to rest."

"Where are we?" she quietly asked.

"We are in my home beneath the Opera," he replied.

"Did you….how did we….?"she was trying to ask what had happened, but she didn't even know where to begin.

"Meg, do you remember anything about what happened at the inn?"

Immediately after he asked the question he wished that he had not. Erik watched as Meg's big brown eyes welled up with tears that began to pour down her cheeks as if a dam had broken behind her eyelids. She pulled her knees up to her chest and tucked her head down, then softly wept reminding Erik so much of a little girl. Seeing her cry made him feel as though he couldn't breathe.

You imbecile, he thought, why would force her to remember everything so quickly after all she has been through?

He rushed to her side and instinctively tried to hold her in his strong arms. But for the first time in all their encounters Meg flinched at his touch and shied away from him. Her reaction bore a hole straight through his heart. She had never resisted his touch before, and now he felt as though he had somehow violated her further.

Erik quickly retreated away from her, realizing that the touch of a monster would clearly be no comfort for Meg as she dealt with the memories of such a terrifying experience. He began to feel foolish for even thinking she would want him near.

As he started to leave her bedside Meg looked up from the covers straight into his pained green eyes. To his surprise, she thrust her arms around his neck and pressed her face into his chest. She gripped him tightly and began to weep much more heavily than before. He enclosed her tiny frame in his enveloping embrace while she continued to cry.

Erik could feel the warmmoisture of Meg's tears seeping through his shirt. His heart was breaking for her, but at the same time he was overjoyed that she had reached out for him and was allowing him to hold her.

After awhile Meg caught her breath and feebly asked, "The man… where… where is he? Does he know where I am? Why, why would he…..," but her sentence was cut short as she could not stop from sobbingeven harder.

"Listen to me, Meg," Erik said holding her tear soaked face in his hands and looking deep into her eyes, "you will never see his face again, ever. I promise you that he will never harm you again. I have made sure of that."

Meg just nodded and tried to wipe some of her tears away. She didn't feel the need to ask any questions, she knew exactly what Erik meant.

Meg sat for a moment looking affectionately into Erik's sea green eyes through his white mask that was molded perfectly to the shape of his face. He had rescued her; he had found her and he had saved her life.

Meg's amorous thoughts were interrupted when she suddenly found herself affronted by another memory from the day of her kidnapping. This one was not frightening and awful, but grossly humiliating. She remembered how the last time she had seen Erik she had all but told him she loved him right to his face.

Meg began to feel her cheeks becoming warm and flushed from embarrassment. She could hardly bare to face him for one more second.

What must he think of me, she wondered.

Meg pulled the covers up over her head and flopped backwards onto the white down pillows behind her. She was simply overcome with mortification. She had blurted out Christine's name to Erik without even thinking, and she certainly had not planned on having to face him like this.

"Meg, what is it? Why are you hiding?" Erik asked, beyond confused by her oddbehavior.

"Please leave me alone, I simply can't bring myself to face you," was her muffled answer.

Her words hit Erik hard. He once again felt the familiar pain from a person being unable to look at him. But what Meg said next baffled Erik even more.

"I feel so foolish.You must think I am such a pathetic, silly girl."

Erik was now completely lost, and he was getting tired of talking to a sheet.

"Marguerite, come out from the covers please, I assure I have no idea what you're talking about," he said firmly.

Meg responded, still hiding beneath the covers, "Don't you recall Monsieur…Christine Daae?"

Erik's mind instantly filled with a thousand different thoughts. He knew what she must be thinking, and he felt a desperate need to be able to look at her. He gently pulled the covers from Meg's hands and down away from her face.

Meg reluctantly let go and sat up to confrontthe humiliating consequences of her loose tongue. But Erik did notsay anything; he just stared at her with his stunning green eyes. She couldn't stand waiting another moment for him to tell her what she already knew to be true.

"I know you could never care for me because you love Christine, and I know I am alone in my feelings, but…."

Erik stopped her by placing his gloved finger over her soft lips. He tenderly brushed the golden hair away from her red, swollen cheeks.

The thought that had seemed like a dream to himfinally began to seem like reality. She loved him. He could hardly believe what was happening. Even more astounding was the idea that she thought he was rejecting her. Erik knew he had to convince her that it was she who he loved more than he could have ever imagined.

"You are not alone," he said looking deeply into her dark questioning eyes, "I love you, Meg, not Christine. I love you in a way that I never dreamed possible."