Meg awoke to the sound of a flurry of wings as pigeons flew overhead. She knew she was inside, somewhere, and that there was a window near her, but her sleepy eyes refused to open...yet. She moaned softly, still trying to dream of something she had forgotten about as soon as she had awoken. As she shifted, stretching like a cat, she realized she was underneath a blanket, though it was not her own. This one was silken and light, and it was warm and cool at the same time.

A bit worried now, Meg's mind joggled a bit, demanding that she try to remember what she was doing in this foreign place. In a flash, the previous night came back to her. She had found the Phantom-no, Erik. She had found Erik alone and huddled in the darkness, and she had stayed with him.

Her eyes finally opened and there was bright sunlight streaming through a low window to her right. She sat up, looking around and realized she was not in a room at all, it was a large chamber with many columns, and what she had thought was a window was just another opening between the stones. Meg frowned. Where was she?

Presently, she heard a loud bell being rung, and the noise of it was immense. Those bells were familiar, and she realized where she was. The Cathedral of Notre Dame. It was not too far from the theatre, since both presided in Paris, but still, the girl wondered how she had gotten there in the first place. Had Erik taken her here? Scanning the room again, she was dismayed to find that there was no trace of the man. She began to wonder if it had been a dream, but then why would she be here, of all places?

Quietly, she rose up and walked towards an armoire that had been built into the wall. Perhaps this place was inhabited. There was a letter darted into the wood with a sharp feather, and the familiar seal of a dark red skull. Meg gasped unintentionally and her small lips pressed together as she swallowed. Carefully she unpinned the note and breathlessly sat back down where she had previously been sleeping. She had never been allowed to open the waxen seal; it had always been her mother who had taken the letters dropped down from the Phantom. Meg had always thought it was strange that the letters flew down, as if from heaven, though the person giving them was not the angel he claimed to be.

She opened the letter a bit awkwardly, the cracked seal still a bit soft. Had this letter been sealed…recently?

The note inside had smooth, inky handwriting and there was not a single botch on the page. She read it, entranced:

My Dearest Friend,

I never knew I would find an ally in you, in such a bright, sweet child. I had resigned myself to living a life in loneliness once again, my heart torn from me one last time. I had been lost, a broken man, but you found me. Even now I as I write these words, watching you in your peaceful slumber, I am afraid to look into your eyes when you awaken. Will they be the same, kind blue eyes?

Will you still give me your trusting heart in the light of day, when my elegance is lost? You are a woman of the day, an angel of sunlight. I cannot stay in your brilliance, and I cannot bring you down into my nighttime as I once did Christine.

In truth, I am again lost; for I know not what to do with you, except to thank you for your kindness. Did you know that when I woke up, I was crying? It had been in my sleep, and when I awoke, the tears had frozen on my cheeks, because you were holding me, I felt so safe from the world, as if you were my mask. But I was not afraid to show you my ugliness.

Dear Angel of the Sun, to you, I can only offer my gratitude and humble friendship. I do not know how to live. In my heart, I am still a boy, angry at the world, and who has suddenly been calmed by the kiss of beauty. Christine helped me calm my torment, but now that my search for beauty is over, I do not know how to live anymore. I need to be forgiven for my sins, and this is why you have awoken at Notre Dame. I am here, though you cannot see me yet.

I am asking for pardon, I want to be a new man, though I will suffer again for the crimes I have committed. I will not ask you to stay with me as I learn to live again, but I ask for your guidance and warm smile that has proven a light in the darkness of my heart.

I have sent a note to your mother so she knows that you are safe. You may return to her today if you wish, but tonight, please wait for me in this tower above the streets of Paris. I will come with the setting of the sun and give you a proper farewell. Until twilight ends, rest well, dearest friend.

--Erik

Meg had experienced a range of emotions as she had read the letter, but the strongest was joy. He was trying to better his life by being forgiven for his sins. And he was coming to see her tonight! Meg was a bit saddened at the thought of having to bid him farewell, and so she sat for a moment longer, wondering what she would say to him when he arrived. Did he truly wish to say good bye? He had called her his dearest friend, she warmed at the thought. Meg wanted to stay with him, to help him and fill the chasm in his heart that Christine had left behind. But, would he let her?

The girl sighed and rose up again, tucking the note away in a breast pocket. She was not going to let him say good bye to her, she would stay with him. With this new resolve, she walked up the armoire again, this time, opening it. Meg breathed with amazement as she stared at the gorgeous gowns that were inside. There were seven of them, all complimenting the tone of her skin and bringing out the color in her eyes and hair. Meg had a suspicion that they had not been placed there at random. The dresses were either blue, pink, white or silver, rustling with new fabric and sparkling beads.

She dared not try them on, for fear of ruining them, but just as she was closing the armoire, she caught a gleam in the corner of her eye and opened the doors once again. There, hidden beneath the folds of the white and blue gowns was another dress. It was also white, though it was a shade lighter. Reaching out for it, Meg wondered why she had not noticed it before. It had a beauty that was well-hidden, and one had to look twice before catching it. She pulled it out and was awe-struck at the intricacy of the design. A simple glance would have dismissed the gown as ordinary, but looking closer there were delicate floral patterns stitched into the bodice, and there were diamonds intricately laced together in a veneer of white daylilies. Pale satin lined the borders of the corset and wrapped around middle ending in a small bow behind the waist. The gown of the dress spread out in a wide array of fabric, and the petticoat slashed in the middle to boast the elaborate embroidery sewn into the folding cloth in the pattern of songbirds as they took flight. Small pearls lined the outer edges of the petticoat and light threads of lapis lazuli stitched tiny blue flowers into the hem of the gown. The dress had been cut so that there were thin, lacy sleeves that only covered the shoulders. Draped over this were long silken, snowy gloves edged in stitches of jasmines, tiny and white.

Meg knew that this was the gown she was to wear when Erik came to meet her that night. Suddenly, it dawned on her that he had signed the note Erik instead of Opera Ghost or Phantom, and this made her smile to herself. He was a different man now.

o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o

As the day wore on, Meg had decided not to visit her mother yet, and to stay in the chamber overlooking the River Seine. Upon further exploration of the room, she found a warm meal awaiting her, and some bread and cheese for later. All this he had done in one night? Meg marveled at the man's attention to detail and the speed with which he performed his various tasks. It was as if bringing her to the cathedral had been a plan, not a spontaneous event. But that was unlikely, the man was simply adroit at such endeavors, which made him all the more mysterious and remarkable.

It was now mid-afternoon, and she sat near the opening, watching the people down below and the sunlight dancing on the river. By this time, she had already put on the dress, its size fitting her perfectly, though she wasn't surprised. She had not known what to do with her hair, and decided to let it fall naturally. It was a simple contrast to her intricate gown, and she wanted to seem a bit casual.

The day was beautiful, not a cloud in the sky and the pinkish hue of the world at that moment made the girl a bit drowsy as she sat, waiting for the sun to go down, though she did not sleep. There was another flurry of wings and more pigeons flew from their tall perches above her. She had not noticed that they had been cooing softly until they were gone, and now everything was silent. Even the townspeople below her were setting off towards their houses in rest for the coming night. As the activity around her died away and ebbed, Meg felt a growing excitement inside.

Her thoughts drifted to when Christine had first told her about the Angel of Music that had been whispering to her at night. Meg remembered shivering at the story because she had known all along who he was, though she had never told Christine. She remembered asking her, "Christine, do you believe?" And she had not asked the question in the curiosity of whether or not her friend believed in the existence of such a man, she had asked because she wanted to show the Phantom that he was deceiving her friend. Christine had said that she felt him, that he was watching them at that moment here in this room, he calls me softly, somewhere inside, hiding, she had said. Meg had known that as well, and she had asked Christine so that the Phantom would know that the girl believed he was an angel sent from her dead father. Christine did not know the Phantom as Meg did. She did not know that he was but a man, a genius, truly, but still only a man. One who had deceived himself and those around him into believing he was more than just that.

Suddenly, Meg heard a soft sound behind her. In her deep thoughts, she had not realized that the sun had already set and now the sky was a dark purple, slowly fading into blackness.

She tensed at the sound, frightened at first because the silence around her had been so overwhelming. But now she grinned a bit and turned towards the inside of the place.

"Bonne nuit, ma petite amie, ma cherie madmoiselle Giry," said Erik in his usual sultry voice. She was awestruck at his appearance, it was so different from his usual elegance and yet he held a certain refinement. His blond hair was no longer hidden in a black wig but combed back smoothly and tied at the end with a black ribbon. He wore half a cape on his left shoulder, and it too, was black, smoothly worn as if it had been pressed. His attire was a suit, with his familiar maroon vest. Nothing was flamboyant or cocky about his outfit anymore, he looked handsome, certainly, but more of an ordinary beauty rather than an uncanny one. He looked as if he were going to...the opera. And then his face, yes, there was his face. No longer was his hideousness hidden in a mask, nor was he trying to shy away from the moonlight that now struck it. He was exposing himself to her eyes, he was being so vulnerable and trusting, and this warmed the girl's heart.

He looked at her now, his green eyes staring at her in wonder, and even shyness. They were no longer frightening or blazing with madness, though they held a twinkle of mischief, as if he entertained the thought that he could easily manipulate her heart as he had done with Christine. Reaching out his hand from behind his back, Erik produced a rose.

It had not yet reached full bloom, though it was very close, and it was white, seeming to set off a glow of its own to compliment the moonlight. Around it, he had tied a white ribbon. This, he reached out to her, grinning to show a flash of his white teeth.

Meg took it wordlessly, her eyes fixated upon his own. He was mesmerizing, even now, and a true romantic at heart.

"Bonne nuit, homme de la nuit," smiled Meg.