Author's Notes: I do not own the Phantom of the Opera and make no profit off of this story.
"Meg! There you are! I've been looking for you everywhere!" Christine exclaimed, cheeks rosy and eyes sparkling. "Do you have your costume for the ball yet?"
"What…oh the masquerade?" Meg asked. "I'd completely forgotten about the whole affair."
"I'm not surprised. You seem to always have your head in the clouds these days! Tell me who is he?"
Meg laughed, "Just because you're in love doesn't mean we all are, Christine! In fact, I've been thinking about the Phantom lately."
Christine gave a tiny shiver of fright. "Who isn't?"
"Has he tried to talk to you?"
"Not since that terrible night. Raoul thinks he's been scared off. I'm afraid he's just waiting for something."
Meg shook her head sadly. How could they all be so wrong? Didn't anyone try to understand him at all? Instead they were all so caught up in their own lives, in their own sense of adventure and excitement. They were so eager to believe that he was some sort of supernatural demon. "You're not very nice to him and it was he that got you your chance in the spotlight."
"He only did it for himself! He lies about everything!"
Meg felt torn. Yes, Erik had let Christine believe he was the angel, but Christine had turned on him awfully fast. "Let's not argue. You will understand in time."
Christine laughed. "I don't want to talk about him anyway. Do you have your costume?"
"No. Do you?"
"Raoul and I are going in matching outfits. He said he wanted me to be his princess."
"You always look like a princess! I can't wait to see it though."
"What are you going to do about your own? Do you need help?"
Meg smiled. "You're much to busy with the production. I'll just ask mother. In fact, I'll find her right now."
"Don't forget to show it to me before the ball!" Christine laughed. "I want to make sure I can find you there!"
"I will!" Meg promised and hurried off to search for her mother.
Unfortunately, Ms. Giry was nowhere to be found. She wasn't in the costume dungeon or out fitting the cast. Meg wandered further and further trying to find her.
"What 'ave we 'ere?"
Meg looked up, startled. It was one of the tech people, not one of the ones she knew. A big man, he lurched slightly on his feet, obviously drunk and just as obviously smelly.
"Have you seen Madame Giry?" Meg asked. "I need to ask her about a costume."
"What about what's under the costume, eh love?" He reached toward her.
"Stop it!" Her voice was sharp.
"Ooo. A reg-yoo-lar spitfire!" Despite his drunken state, he managed to move fast enough to grab her arm. "Let's see how you like it rough!"
"Let me go!" Her voice sounded shrill in her own ears. How could this be happening? Happening here in her own home, the Opera House?
He laughed and his breath puffed against the side of her neck. It felt dirty and she wanted to wipe it off. He reached for her other arm and she batted at him ineffectually. "Stop!" she shrieked.
Suddenly the man was ripped away and flying through the air to tumble against the stone wall. "You dare attack someone in my theatre?" Erik's voice was dangerous and angry. "Did you think no one would notice?"
"Y-You!" The man scrambled to his feet, eyes bulging in fear.
"I am everywhere!" Erik proclaimed grandiosely but Meg couldn't fault him for that.
The man grabbed at his belt and sent his little dagger winging through the air aimlessly, his fear and lack of experience spoiling his aim. In an instant there was a six foot blade against his throat.
"Do you think you can best me, little man?"
The man whimpered in terror.
"I'll tell you what I'm going to do. I'm going to lower this blade and you're going to run. Very fast. You would do best not to try my patience. Mercy is not something I am in the habit of giving out." Erik's voice was a deadly whisper. Meg watched with wide eyes as the sword was lowered and the man desperately raced off, tripping over himself in his haste.
"Are you alright?" Erik asked her, sheathing his sword.
"Y-y-yes." she said although she felt anything but alright. "Thank you!" And completely overwhelmed, she threw herself into his arms, sobbing her relief all over his jacket.
He flinched badly at that first contact and held himself rigid as he tried awkwardly to pat her back. "I'll kill him." he told her and it sounded like he was trying to make her happy.
"N-no. Don't kill him." Meg drew back and wiped at her eyes. "I don't want you getting into more trouble because of me."
"Can you make it back to the others?"
"I don't want to go back there yet."
"Very well. Come then." He led her further down the hall and up to a pretty wall hanging that had been there for ages. Hidden behind was a small door which he led her through. A lit torch waited in a bracket on the inside, evidence of how Erik had come. Lifting it, he led her through dark, twisted passages that led steadily downward. Ahead Meg could hear the lapping of water reverberating back towards them.
"Where are we going?"
"Where I live."
"Oh." She hadn't thought of that somehow and dimly she had supposed that he was always there above, listening behind walls. He helped her into the boat, standing at the prow to row it. She gazed curiously around, thinking that it was like an entire secret world down here.
"Don't you ever get lost?"
"I did at first. But I have had time to learn my way."
"Just how long have you been down here!" She was aghast. Had he lived all this time without sunshine or fresh air?
He shrugged. "I really don't know. It's not too bad." He changed the subject. "We're just about there now." The boat rounded one more corner and entered through an arch. As they did, giant pillars erupted out of the water to their sides, candles lighting as they hit the air. Meg gasped in amazement and Erik's lips turned up at her reaction. Gently the boat ran aground on the island that was lit by the masses of candles.
"Mademoiselle, I bid you welcome." He held out his hand to help her up.
"It's amazing! How ever did you manage it?"
"There are tunnels all over the city of Paris. It's easy enough to get what you need if you know where you're going."
"But weren't you afraid of getting lost?"
"At the time I was more afraid of being found than getting lost." His tone was one of amusement but Meg didn't think there was anything funny about the image of a little boy running scared through the dark tunnels.
"Would you like to rest? Or food perhaps?" he asked her.
"Oh, no thank you. I'm alright." She wandered ahead of him, examining her surroundings curiously. She stopped by a large red leather-bound book. "What's this?"
"My masterpiece." Erik's voice was passionate and she looked back at him, startled. His expression was fierce and proud and reminded her of a hawk somehow. The expression nearly took her breathe away.
"An opera?" she asked.
"My opera."
"May I?" her hand hovered over the cover.
He hesitated, then nodded abruptly. "No one's ever seen it."
"Not Christine?"
"She would have been my lead, but no. She hasn't seen it. And never will, now."
Meg watched his face carefully as he spoke of Christine but only a faint trace of regret showed there, for which she was glad. She seated herself at one of the plush chairs at the table and opened up the manuscript.
"Meg…"
"Shhh! I'm almost done" she told him distractedly.
"It's getting late."
"Just a moment." she forestalled him, eyes scanning over the last few lines. She shut the book with a sigh. "Beautiful. Thank you so much for letting me look at it."
His long eyelashes swept his cheek as he looked down in recognition of her compliment.
"I'm glad you enjoyed it."
"Why haven't you published it?"
"How am I to go out? This face hides under a mask for a reason!" His tone was suddenly bitter and angry.
"I'm sorry! I didn't mean…"
He turned away, cape swirling. "Come, we must be going. Your mother will be missing you."
She reached timidly for his arm. "May I come again?"
"If you wish." he helped her back to the boat and set off for to return her to the world she knew.
Author's Notes: I don't know if any of you've noticed but I've tried to take a few of the song lyrics and insert them into dialogue. Anyway, review and let me know what you think.
