Author's Notes: Once again, I do not own The Phantom of the Opera and make no profit off of this story.
"Meg, you look beautiful!" Christine exclaimed, rushing over to greet her friend as she entered the ball. "Wherever did you get the dress?"
Meg blushed and swayed from side to side, feeling the full skirts brush against her legs like a caress. "It was a gift from a friend."
At that, Christine's brown eyes showed worry. "Meg…"
The blonde laughed. "Don't be silly, Christine. I know better than to make that kind of "friend." Trust me, it's nothing to be worried about."
"Who's it from?"
Meg barely hesitated. "You don't know each other."
"Tell me about them then!"
"Ah, Christine. There you are!" The vicomte walked up, smile open and charming. He bowed and held out his arm for her. "May I have this dance, lady?"
Christine's eyes sparkled and a rosy blush appeared in her cheeks. She looks lovely in love, thought Meg as her friend was swept onto the floor. She wished just once someone would look at her the way the vicomte looked at Christine. Of course, half a dozen other men were always looking at Christine with that look of utter devotion as well. Meg watched the two dance, chatting briefly with some friends and trying a few h'or devours. It was fun to see everyone's costumes but soon, with Christine and her other friends busy with their dates, she began to grow bored.
She peered over the crowd to find the distinctive hat her mother wore and then weaved her way through the crowd to her side. "Mother, I think I'm going to retire."
Madame Giry was inspecting the other guests critically, seemingly looking for something. "Wait." she told her daughter in her regular brisk manner.
"For what?"
But her mother wouldn't tell her, only turned to watch the special performance of singing and dancing down the main staircase. Meg watched with only half an eye, used to more impressive displays on stage.
Suddenly a preternatural hush fell over the room. Meg could hear Christine gasp loudly and followed everyone else's gaze up onto the top of the staircase. There, dressed in scarlet, face bold and proud, stood Erik. Calmly he descended, the crowd parting fearfully before him. He stopped before Meg, wordlessly offering his arm.
Her lips curled up in amusement, eyes dancing with barely suppressed laughter. He always had to make a statement, didn't he? She swept low into a curtsy and took his arm. He led her into the suddenly empty dance floor and leveled a glare at the orchestra. They seemed to gulp audibly but timidly struck up a song.
No one dared join them on the floor as they danced. "I'm glad you came," Meg said softly.
"And miss seeing the dismay on the faces of all these foolish peacocks?"
She leveled a look at him, reminding him that she too was dressed up.
"They have no sense of style. No sense of beauty, of the power, at all."
"They do their best. Everyone should be recognized for effort."
"If everyone had your kind heart, Meg Giry, there would be no lack of beauty in the world." He told her solemnly, eyes staring directly into her very soul, and she knew that Erik did not say things he did not believe.
"You give me too much credit."
The song was beginning to wind to a halt. In the sudden silence he took her hand and kissed it. "It is not everyone that would dance with the Phantom." Meg didn't know if his words were in response to hers or to the eagerly listening audience. There was a sudden flash and explosion of smoke. Everyone shielded their eyes and when they looked again, he had gone. Even if he had only made use of stage effects, it worked in getting him away unseen and confirmed everyone's belief in his "supernatural" abilities.
The room filled with the buzz of supposition and shrill, hysterical voices. Christine immediately rushed to Meg.
"Are you alright? What did he say to you? Did he hurt you?" She clasped Meg's hand tightly.
"We only danced Christine!"
Christine's face was full of worry. "Did he say anything? Threaten you?" Her casual vilification of a man who had done so much for her enraged Meg.
"You know, just because you did not look for anything but a monster does not mean that there is a monster. Perhaps if you all treated him decently, he'd return the favor! I would have expected you, Christine, to be less shallow!" She tore herself away from her friend's grasp and stormed out of the ballroom.
Author's Notes: I realize Christine doesn't come across as the nicest person in this story. She's still a good friend and a good person but she is only human. I think most of us could manage to restrain our curiosity and not rip off Erik's mask. It was rude and I think most of us have better manners. And most of us would not be horrified by his face. We might be grossed out but we would still realize that he's a person and not a monster just because of his face. Christine's reaction is, in my opinion, a bit much even when one considers the times. She claims to be such a good, pious girl but I don't think she quite lives up to that. She's too caught up in herself and her own pain. She's selfish. Obviously, I don't like her too much but I tried not to portray her too harshly. Let me know how you think I did (hint, hint!).
