Well, here we go, I still don't own anything but hey, I'm still having fun...

WARNING:

The FADA (Fanfiction Addiction Detection Agency) has come to the conclusion that this story can be highly addicting. The Author cannot be held responsible for drops in the reader's grades due to new chapters. Large doeses of Requiem can lead to dependence. The Author is not responsible for withdrawal symptoms which can occur when author fails to update speedily enough.

Megan felt sharp tingles trail up her arm and into her spine and then burry there. It was like nothing she had ever felt before except around Erik. His hand, curled around hers was like no feeling she could describe or ever hope to put words to in all her life. He dragged her through familiar halls of the Opera House, pulling her along behind him all the way to the dressing room Christine had been stolen from once. That night, that whole time seemed so long ago, so much longer than the few months it had really been. It seemed a lifetime behind her. She wondered, not for the first time, if Erik still thought about it. If the wounds that Christine had so obviously inflicted on him were still fresh upon his heart. He pulled her through the mirror and into a long tunnel of stone and darkness.

She had to struggle to keep up with his long-legged stride but she enjoyed the way his fingers brushed against the palm of her hand, and the way that he kept glancing back at her, to make sure she was still there, to make sure she was keeping up. Most people just expected her to keep up and too bad for her if she couldn't. She couldn't see anything in the pitch black that surrounded them, just Erik's eyes when they chose to flick back to her. When they looked at her she could see them as she never saw them before, big, bright and glowing as brilliantly as the stars in the sky, glowing with a light that would have put the sun to shame. While at home, when they had no money for candles or oil, she stumbled about and shuffled in the darkness, here, in this total black she didn't falter.

Her heart and soul were confused and lost in a writhing sea of emotions but her trust? Her faith? They rested in those shimmering eyes. She followed him blindly, never looking anywhere but at the point where those eyes would sometimes appear. She was in Erik's world, and she was still rattled from Eliot's would-be attack. She had no doubt she could have bested him if she had tried, but she had been so scared, and all she could do was shake and wince as he pawed at her with those great big hands. She followed him through innumerable twists and turns and finally he paused, the sound of their feet echoing into silence until all that was left was the sound of their breathing. Erik's slow and deep, drawn from the stomach and expelled with force as all singers knew how to do, while Megan took slow, measured breaths, the kind you were taught to do when you danced.

Two halves of one Opera, musician and dancer.

"Are you alright?" He asked and should she not have seen his eyes—almost green in this light—she would not have known where to look when she answered.

"I'm fine, I was just scared." She whispered with a nervous sort of laugh, somehow feeling there was a silence around them that couldn't be broken for anything.

"You're certain?" He asked, and there was a touch on her cheek, on her shoulder, and then she was alone in the dark again.

"I can't see but I am certain I'm fine." There was silence and one could almost hear the thoughts rushing through Erik's head faster than he could manage them. He took her hand once more and they moved through hallways Megan could not see. He wondered at that. When he had brought Christine down these halls she had glanced over her shoulder even in the dark when she could not see. She'd balked and walked slowly and stumbled over her own tiny feet. Megan followed him without question, and even after he had killed someone right before her. She knew he was mad, she knew he was a killer, and yet she followed him and seemed to trust him as Christine never had.

He could not possibly be in love with her though, Christine, his angel, had been the one for him. He may never have a chance at her but living within an Opera House had taught him much, like the idea that love was a lasting emotion, something that went on and one until the end of time. You did not love someone one moment and love someone else the next, it just didn't work like that.

"Just a moment more Megan." His voice slithered through the darkness and curled around her, comforting her, steadying her fluttering heart.

"I don't know if I thanked you," She started, "I don't think Eliot would have killed me though." She sighed and he felt a tug on his hand, but when he glanced back she was still keeping up, she must have only stumbled for a moment. He wondered what he could say. What could someone say to a young woman one had just killed for. "Though, that's not to say that there aren't things worse than death." Her voice was soft, a flutter in the darkness and he was sure he had misheard her. It was far too serious a thing to be said by a young woman.

Megan wasn't a young woman though, she was younger than him that was certain, younger than him by a great deal, but she was older than Christine. She should have been married long ago. "Actually, tonight is not the first time you have saved me from a man, though I don't think you know it." She whispered and he could tell that she had not meant that for him to hear. It did not stop him from inquiring about it though.

"I do not usually make it a practice of killing to protect people." Neither of them mentioned that he would have killed, would have died to protect Christine.

"My mother was your confidant. My mother had power because of this and that power passed on to me. Dancers—I'm sure you did not know—are often…" She paused, searching for a word she could use in their strange relationship, not a duet, but not so separate as a friendship. "The patrons often escort the dancers to their homes for an evening or two. It is how Philippe met Sorille. I never had to worry about him but those before him…" She sighed in the darkness and the shadows sighed with her, both could hear the lake now, light was close and this far too intimate darkness would end. "They would inquire about me but the managers wouldn't dare. If Madam Giry told the ghost her daughter had endured such torture…" Megan dropped the conversation. She did not need to continue, they both could imagine where the sentence would end. Though Erik had never thought the assistance he had granted the elder Giry had been used for such…noble means.

"You're Welcome." The words seemed weak but he wasn't sure what else to say. He could think of all the words in the world and music to accompany them but when he looked at Megan and her imperfect eyes the words left and all that was left was a twisting, pounding melody he had never come up with before. She smiled just as they stepped into the dim light that trickled out over the lake from the small grates that opened onto the Rue Scribe. It caught in the moisture on her lips and for a moment the man trapped in a world of eternal night relished in the beauty of the light. It was not garish in that moment, it was not cruel, it was the most precious thing that had ever been bestowed upon the phantom, but the moment flickered, and time began to move again and the precious moment was gone forever.

For several long moments the two stood on the edge of the lake in an odd sort of silence. It was not awkward, nor was it uncomfortable. However it was hardly to be considered a companionable silence which settled over them. "They will have found his body by now, I'll escort you to the Rue Scribe exit, they will all be busy 'round the front." He suggested, turning away from her eyes. She was searching for something in him, he could tell. Neither knew what she was looking for but it was obvious she was trying to find something deep within his eyes.

It made him uncomfortable. Not that he was under her steady gaze, being studied like a particular song one was trying to learn. It was that he actually cared what she found there. He hoped that she found something which pleased her within him and not something which would disappoint and at last drive her away from this world in which she obviously did not belong. There was a beat, and then Meg took a step forward and glanced over his shoulder and up through the grate which seemed so far away from the two. Every once in a while he could feel her sweet breath stir the dull, twisted hairs that hung over his neck. "Its late, the lamplighters have already been by." She whispered. He spun around to face her and took a step back all at once. He could not love her but suddenly his love for Christine seemed so far away and Megan seemed so near…But love was forever, it was not to be traded about when one girl chose a frilled fop of a boy over you. She didn't flinch at his sudden movement but her brow furrowed once more in a questioning sort of look.

Oh how he had gotten to know that look.

While he taught her to read she often looked up at him with that same look, wondering at a word or a sentence that made no sense. Whenever she bore that look before him he tanked his addiction to learning that he could answer her. Whenever she looked at him with those confused eyes warmth burned through his veins and he began to tremble, though in fear or passion he could not name, nor did he want to, for either option seemed a repugnant course of action. "I may look the part of a monster but I am still a gentleman. I will pay for your cab." He assured her, sounding more angry than hurt though in reality it was a sort of pain he felt.

"That's not what I meant at all." She explained quickly, taking a step back of her own, almost like she was ashamed he felt that way. Christine had pretended as though his hideousness did not bother her, but no one had ever regretted that he thought he was a monster. She toed the ground for a moment and the wet, loose soil clung to the tip of her boot. "I'll leave if you want, I shouldn't have even thought of asking, I just thought it was so late and I already owe you so much, more than just money can ever repay." She murmured softly, not looking up from the designs she was drawing in the ground with the toe of her shoe. "I just thought since it was so late maybe it would be less trouble if I just stayed here tonight…" She shrugged and Erik was certain that if her mother had seen the action her cane would have come down on Megan's shoulders which seemed so wont to move.

"S-stay here?" He asked, displeased with the way his voice gained a tremble to it.

"I already haven't a hope of repaying you for all the kindness you've showed me, I didn't want to add cab fare home to that." She explained, "I never meant for you to take it as an insult." She assured him. "I'll take a cab though, thank you very much." Erik stood for several moments, completely dumbfounded. He had had to kidnap Christine and hold her lover and another captive to convince her to stay and here was someone, a young woman, asking to stay. Surely she just meant to make it easier. She and her mother were not well off, he knew that now but he could think of little to do for it. Perhaps she really was just concerned about the money she thought she owed him.

He watched her turn and take a few steps away and then followed quickly, overtaking her easily. He cloak swirled around her and he came to stop in front of her. Once more they stood across from each other, both hesitant to speak and both too stubborn to look away.

"I'll leave I don't mind."

"You can stay if you truly want."

Each assured the other at the same time. Then realized what the other had said and settled into silence once more.

"It was improper of me to ask at all and simply because I am a lazy cow." Megan laughed harshly, but the laughter was directed at herself rather than at him. "My mother would have my hide if she could hear me. She will worry, let's go, I'll find a way to pay you back for everything. I promise I will." She assured him, speaking quickly, betraying the fact that she was emotional about one thing or another. Though Erik could not guess at what emotions hid within those swirling eyes. Megan was so confusing compared to Christine and her easily read, simple blue eyes.

That thought startled him.

Once he had though Christine's eyes perfect with their singular blue color, so perfect compared to the riot of color which hid in Megan's eyes. He had thought that those changes of color made the eyes less than what they should be, however now he saw it a different way. When one played music there were not just pure notes, there were flats, there were sharps…there were warbling imperfections which were written purposely into the music and at times it was the use of these irregularities that made a song beautiful.

Christine's eyes were not perfect, they were simplistic. Of course, he was not sure that Megan's eyes were perfect, but there was a chance that they were, a better chance than Christine had.

She glanced at the ground and passed a few halls, finally selecting one seemingly at random. "Where are you going?" He asked, she paused and turned to face him.

"To the Rue Scribe exit you mentioned." She didn't add that he had never showed her where it was.

"And how, little ballerina," he didn't notice the way she stiffened and he certainly couldn't be expected to have heard her thoughts, thoughts wondering why he seemed to think she was a child. Christine had been old enough for him to marry so why was Megan always treated like a child when she and Christine were nearly the same age. She didn't understand it and was sure it was because he was too blinded to see anyone but Christine and so she would always be the child he had first seen her as, or as her mother saw in her. "I asked," he sounded a little frustrated, "how you planned to get there when I've never shown you the way.

Christine had never wondered in his world without him right there and she was afraid to, she would not chance getting lost and having to depend on him to find her. Megan seemed like she would find her own way if she got lost. She was so independent but that could be for several reasons. Her father was French but he had lived in America for long enough to pick up the culture, women there were strong and independent so perhaps that was how he had raised his daughter. Even if it wasn't her father Madam Giry was independent, to a fault. He always laughed when he remembered that the managers had needed to call five officers when they tried to fire her. Or maybe it was just Megan, she had been ignored, hidden in the shadows so long, that she was used to doing things for herself.

"You do not go out as often as you should; therefore wouldn't the exit straight to the street be the least used? There is no dirt tracked up into this hall so I assumed you did not frequent it as often as some of the other paths." Megan explained and Erik was surprised. It was a good deduction and she'd used words he hadn't thought she would know so well. He had been right to think her intelligent, she was. She was wrong about the path, but she had a good line of thought. The idea that she wanted him to be out, in the outside world among regular people was appalling but she lived in a world of Opera characters who could simply shed the sadness of Tristan and become the comical Husband in Il Muto. She couldn't understand what it was to truly suffer. He took her hand, more gently then when they had dashed madly away from Erik's latest sin and he lead her to the right path, pausing to light a small lantern.

They stood at the corner, Megan bathed in the orange light of the gas lamp and Erik ensconced in shadows. The cab drove up and she smiled at him. For a moment she was an adult, not a ballerina, not a little girl, not Little Meg, but a grown woman who had lived her life. The moment passed and she rocked forward on the balls of her feet as though she were going to approach him, as though she were planning something. But she shook her head, as though to clear it of cobwebs, and spun, rushing into the cab which waited patiently. She hung out the window like a child and grinned, waving at him and shouting "thank you," back at him even though the darkness had flooded between them. She knew he could still see her. In fact he watched the place where her cab drove off even after it had turned a corner and been lost from sight.

Meg held her rebellious hair back with one hand and reached out with the other, the flame dancing and flickering for a moment as though it were teasing her. Finally it settled on the wick and she drew the match away, shaking it hard enough to put it out and then dropping it in the little tin with others. Her hair was released and she pressed the palms of her hands together gently. 'God?' She didn't know if she expected an answer or not. She was religious, she was supposed to be, she believed in God, but he had taken her father from her and her mother was getting weaker and more sickly every day. She didn't know how else to pray though so this would have to do, and if God wanted her to do it differently he would have to speak up. 'I know that your teachings say 'Thou shalt not kill' and that Erik has broken that commandment before. I think. I don't know him as well as I would like so maybe its just stories. I know he killed Eliot last night though.' She sighed and one eye cracked open to peer at the tray of candles, most of their wicks glowed with merry little flames. Her eye snapped shut again. 'But please don't blame him for it. You can blame me if you like. It was my fault anyway I could have struggled free like every other time, its just I was scared and tired and it is no excuse.'

She took a deep breath and plowed forward, hoping she wasn't committing a sin in this act alone. 'He only did it to save me and you tell us that life is precious. Well Erik was raised poorly and to kill is the only way he knows how to protect himself. Its part of his nature, never leave a job half done? Because he was protecting me I pray that you don't blame him for it, you can blame me, me that I was not careful enough.' She sniffled opened the other eye, glancing up to the stained glass window right in front of her. 'There is so much beauty in this world and so much good but Erik has not seen any kindness, not once. At least not real kindness. So please, please forgive him. Amen.' She had already lit a candle for her mother and she only lit a candle for her father twice a year, once on his birthday and once on the date of his death.

With that done she rolled her shoulders and tried to contain herself as she left the church. She was going to be late to meet the Baron but she didn't mind, she would also be late to meet Erik and that she did mind for some reason.

The sun bombarded her as she exited the cool, dark interior of the church and now that she was outside she sped up and was weaving in and out of the people walking along the walkways as she made her way to the Opera House. If she hurried she could be on time for practice at least and only get held after a few minutes for one of the Mistress's shorter lectures…

Forensic Photographer711: Neat. Happy is a good thing. I hope you don't get disappointed that not everything is made better with just him realizing he loves her. These two still have a long, bumpy path ahead of them if for no other reason than I am having too much fun with this story to end it now. But, to make you feel a little better about what the ending may or may not be, I'll tell you secret...I'm a hopeless romantic too, I love sap, and fluff and romance and most of all? Happy endings.

I love Gerry: I am so glad that you gave book-based phics a chance (though sadly I've strayed more than I planned to at the beginning, Still I think there should be some stuff that's worth it...) and I'm especially glad that you like mine. I am also thrilled to hear that there are more E/M fans out there than I originally thought, it gives me hope that someday this section will be filled with E/M fics.

Allegratree: Firstly I'd like to apologize to everyone else if you're not reading this anymore because I've a plan to answer or at least address all your comments and that's going to take a sizable chunk of text. I'm not fighting though, I just want to point out some things to you that maybe you didn't think of--sometimes I assume everyone is on the same train of thought that I am--and maybe make this story not quiet as...vexing?...as it seems to be for you. I'm glad you like my descriptions even though I found out later that they didn't really follow those in the book but I was trying to create an image. I gave Christine dark hair and light eyes and Megan had light hair and dark eyes, it was part of the...I don't wanna say Ying-Yang but that sort of opposite halves thing...anyway, just have faith and I'll get to that. A lot of these plot points you just have to wait for because they take a while to set up. As for no one but Meg believing in the phantom that's a book point. Megan's mother seemed only to have faith in him because he promised her Meg would be an Empress. Everyone else honestly thought it was a ghost, thought it was some demon come to torment them. It never crossed anyone's mind that it was a man. If you like I can find the passages I am talking about. I have a pre-annotated version that was printed like that so I can't give page numbers but I will tell you the chapters if you like? My narrative was supposed to be from Megan's POV as though she were sitting at a desk and writing it. It was rambling for a reason. I don't know if you stuck with me long enough but if you did, it is the same as when Sorille narrated, she was crazy and so she rambled, got lost in her own words. It is a technique one of my Lit. teachers taught us to give the story a human aspect and help the readers connect with the characters. I'm sorry if it made the whole tell less enjoyable. As for the discrepencies I saw--in the first chapter--a few but not a ton. Either way I mentioned later that my fingers got carried away with me and I had an ending planned that would explain those despcrepancies and still it would connect with the book. Again, I'm trying to have fun with my readers it isn't my intention to annoy so I'm sorry if I did. As for Megan's name. Firstly, for all Leroux gave us her name could be just Meg. But I thought that since I made her father have spent a lot of time around Americans that her name would be Megan. That is because I wanted to use her full name when a character saw her as an adult and Meg when they saw her as a child. Those that you suggested sounded much too high and mighty for a poor ballerina. I hope that you did not give up on my story, there are so few E/M phics out there that I would hate to make you think they're all as...strange as mine, and I hope that even if you give up on mine you give the others a chance.

Alexis: I am glad that you enjoy the idea that Meg is a fighter. I was hesitant to make her fight. So many times people call a character Megan Giry, but turn her into a Mary-Sue whom everyone loves and who can do anything. Someone who cannot fail and everything goes perfect for after very little plot. But she didn't seem the type to just sit there and be saved. I figured that she could be brave enough and maybe foolhardy enough to try to fight but that maybe she couldn't beat him exactly. I really was worried about it so I am glad you enjoyed it and it certainly soothes what fears I had, though when people like Allegratree find so much wrong with a story I am trying so hard to make perfect I really do worry that everyone's just being too kind to me. So thank you. Your words gave me the hope that maybe...I'm not doing that bad a job.

Soulpoet: Always glad to hear anything from you so you could talk about your day and I would be happy just to know that people are reading my story and like it enough to take the time to hit the little "review" button at the bottom, another way of saying they got to the bottom. As for what you did say, which was incredibly nice, I am glad you saw that, that sort of hope for everyone who isn't a world famous model. In addition to wanting to portray that I have the firm belief that flawed characters are more fun to write. I don't understand why people write Mary-Sue's when its so fun to write characters with flaws, because when they are so like real people they become real people to you and you find yourself enjoying reading about their lives, it doesn't even feel like you're really writing the story, they're telling you and you take dictation.

Jessi: Well first, thanks so much for reading the story. I am so glad you think its the best (and I would love to hear the other two you found that you like) seriously hearing you say that made a horrible day a whole lot better and I ended up getting about half of this chapter written on that sort of "high" your kind review left me with. Also thank you so much for saying they're in character. You have no idea how much angst I go through trying to ensure they're all in character and yet still do things they never did in the book. Meg's easy since she was mentioned for about three sentences total but Erik, god he causes me so much trouble! But when people like you tell me they're in character it makes it all worth it. About the two types of Erik you usually see, I know what you mean. When he's all gooey all I can think is, "Who is this...marshmellow and where is my dark anti-hero? He's the reason I love this tale." But on the flip side when they make him seduce Meg just to use her all I wonder is, "Where is the gentlemanly monster? Where is the dichotomy between the angel and the demon in him?" I'm not actually very religous at all. I'm Agnostic if anything, though I come from a Christian background and Theology is one of my favorite subjects. The idea is in the book Erik spoke of his requiem and there were a couple passages that just really stuck with me about that. It will come into play later but I love to talk. So you have another dual thing with Meg and the religion she just is supposed to believe and Erik who wants to believe but has trouble because of all the suffering he's been through. I won't spoil anything but I think you'll enjoy it no matter your religion.

Lyntharie Kelisya: I am glad you like it and you're happy so far. Also thanks for the well-wishes on the cars, finding one is no problem though, its finding one I can actually afford. I'm a car freak to top off everything else and I'm picking all these cars that I can't afford. Though someday when I'm a millionair, I'll buy them all, MWA HA HA HA!