Author's Note: I do not own the Phantom of the Opera and make no profit off of this story.
Christine was white and trembling when she emerged from her dressing room after the last performance. "What is it?" Meg asked, terrified. Tears begin to make their way down her friend's face. "Father once spoke of an angel. I used to dream he'd appear. But…the Phantom says he is not my angel-that he's a demon. I didn't believe him but, oh Meg, he told me he'd done such terrible things! My father promised me that he would send me the angel of music. My father promised me! What shall I do?"
Meg frowned, wondering what exactly the Phantom had told her and why. "Don't be upset Christine. It'll be alright. I'm sure-"
"Christine! What is it? What has happened?" Raoul interrupted, coming near and seeing her frightened features.
"Raoul! It was terrible!" She hid her face in her hands and Raoul immediately drew her close.
"Don't be afraid Christine. I'll protect you from that monster! Come, we'll take my carriage." He led her away down the hall, leaving Meg behind. Absently Meg wondered how Christine could still be so pretty even while so distraught. She was definitely jealous.
Looking around to see if anyone else was looking, Meg quickly closed herself into Christine's dressing room. "Phantom? Phantom, are you there?"
"I gave you my music. Made your soul take flight. Now, how you've repaid me, denied me and betrayed me…" Just a snatch of song, drifting softly.
"What did you tell her? Why did you tell her?"
"To see…to see if you were right. But who was I to hope for love with my sins?"
Suddenly she felt so bad for him, for some pitiful, lonely man hiding in shadows and wanting so desperately something beautiful for himself. "The Lord can forgive you."
"No one can forgive me."
"I can."
"I killed a man."
She thought of that terrible moment, the body swinging and jerking on the rope, the fear that had split her soul at the sudden sight. "I know."
"No, not him. That was an accident. I was only going to threaten him but the idiot slipped and fell."
"Then who?"
"When I was young. He beat me and kept me locked in a cage. So I killed him."
Meg remained quiet, not knowing how to respond.
"Aren't you going to say something? To tell me of my crimes or to tell me to repent?" His voice was bitter now, mocking her.
"No. What would you have me say? I wasn't there. What's done is done. Whether you're sorry or not is up to you."
"You're much like your mother. She didn't say anything, just helped me leave that place and come here."
"What place?"
There was a long, painful silence. "A place for God's mistakes."
"God doesn't make mistakes."
"You wouldn't say that if you knew."
She frowned.
"Don't do that. It's unattractive."
"What? You can see me!"
"Look at your face in the mirror. I am there, inside."
Curious, she peered toward the full length mirror, only to discover that it had become more of a vague window, the dark outline of the Phantom within. He bowed mockingly to her, cape sweeping out behind him, features dark and handsome.
"Oh!" She blushed.
"Do I frighten you?"
"I just didn't expect you to be so…"
"What?"
She blushed again. "Good looking."
He sneered but she ignored it as she came closer to the mirror.
"Please, may I know your name?"
The visible half of his face reflected his complete surprise. "My name? I'm the Phantom."
"No, your name."
"Why, so you can tell precious Christine and her fool Raoul that I'm just a mortal man?" Betrayal still laced his words.
"So I can talk to you. It's rather silly to keep calling you Phantom all the time. And it's unfair when you must know my name."
His picture in the mirror started to grow fainter and the mirror aspects started to reappear. She didn't think he would answer her question. Finally, just before his face disappeared entirely his eyes met hers. "Erik." And he disappeared once again.
His face stayed in her mind; his dark, brooding eyes haunting her. Thinking of that face, she wondered at the kind of person he was. Reflected back in those eyes she could see the capability for both great kindness and great cruelty. What had he gone through, what had he seen to cause that capacity for cruelty? He said he'd been beaten and caged… Why had someone so talented and intelligent been locked away? And he was lonely, that was plain through those desperate features. Mystery upon mystery laid themselves upon him, covering him like the mask he wore.
She wandered, distracted. It was like a puzzle to be solved. He fascinated her.
Madame Girysaw the distant look in her daughter's eye and said nothing.
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