Not sure if any of you are familiar with the novel Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier (fantastic book btw), but in the 1940 film adaptation, Mrs. Danvers wears a costume that's very similar to ALW's Madame Giry, and now those two women live as a single entity in my mind.

Chapter 12: Tragedy Strikes Again

[featuring "Erik Being a Dumbass"]

~ Summer, 1908 ~

Erik's absence was felt heavily at Mazandaran. Meg was bored beyond belief while her mother was busy holding down the fort, but Madame Giry was enjoying her new authoritative power. She ran a tight ship, and the entire staff breathed a sigh of relief when their absentminded master unexpectedly returned from Phantasma in the dead of night. The servants' spirits, however, soon fell again when Erik officially appointed the ex-ballet mistress as the new head housekeeper.

"I know I promised you wouldn't have to work for me ever again…" Erik said when he returned home to find his manor in tip-top shape.

"Don't worry. I'll do it," Madame Giry replied. Erik didn't possess the executive function to run an estate, but Madame Giry possessed the trait in great quantity. Plus, having a job made her feel like she wasn't living off Erik's charity for the rest of her life, even if her new salary was more generous than necessary.

"So, I heard Erik's back," said Meg as she traipsed into the breakfast room, which was only used for breakfast on Madame Giry's watch.

"Yes, he arrived late last night," Madame Giry replied as she spread jam over a slice of toast.

"Where is he now?" Meg asked on the edge of her seat.

"I don't know...I was speaking to him in his study earlier."

"Ah, yes. Congratulations on your new position," Meg said. She'd overheard a couple maids grumbling about being under her mother's command. They'd frozen in horror when they realized Meg was nearby and could understand everything they'd said in English, but Meg sympathised with them. After all, she'd been under her mother's instruction as a member of the corps de ballet.

"Thank you," Madame Giry replied proudly, "and Meg, I would leave Erik alone if I were you."

"Why?" Meg's cheeks reddened. She'd been about to escape the room in search of the man, but she paused in the doorway at her mother's words.

"His dumb cat had to go and die yesterday, and now he's beside himself with grief," Madame Giry scoffed. She was never particularly fond of cats, but Ayesha had been as sneaky as they come. No matter how many vases she'd smashed or curtains she clawed, Erik had adored his little demon.

"Oh! How awful! She was such a sweet cat!" Meg cried.

"Hmph," Madame Giry grunted.

Erik's current mental state was akin to his spiraling melancholy during the escape from Paris more than ten years prior; except on that fateful boat ride, Erik had suffered daily bouts of seasickness which further sullied his mood during the journey.

Despite her mother's warnings, Meg was determined to find Erik. He wasn't sobbing in his study; nor was he playing mournful music at his piano, and when Meg knocked on his bedroom door, she received no reply. Next place to check was the garden.

"Meg! Leave the man alone!" Madame Giry scolded when her daughter came downstairs with a sunhat and a cheeky grin on her face. "He's even more unbalanced than he already was, and he doesn't need you flirting with him!"

"I'm not going to flirt with him," Meg protested. "I'm going for a walk in the garden and if I happen to run into Erik, so be it!"

The afternoon was hot, but a cool breeze blew off the Long Island Sound when Meg descended the stone terrace staircase and entered the garden. She walked through the maze of hedges until she found Erik sitting on a bench in the shade of a fruit tree.

"Hi, Erik," Meg said gently as she sat beside him. It's been weeks since she'd seen him, and her heart beat rapidly at being so close to him again.

"Hi, Meg," Erik replied without looking up from Ayesha's collar in his hands.

"Mother told me about Ayesha. I'm very sorry."

"It's alright...she was a very old cat…" Erik's voice cracked; his lip quivered. "Do you think I should write to Christine? She and Ayesha were good friends."

Meg stiffened at the mention of her rival's name. "Well, I don't see any reason why you couldn't."

"It might make her sad and… and she doesn't want any letters from me," Erik whimpered.

"Oh, I don't think that's true," Meg said, trying to hide her growing agitation. How could she win Erik's love if was exchanging letters with Christine all the time?

"But it is true!" Erik cried. He pulled a letter from inside his jacket and handed it to Meg. He'd been lucky to get a single letter from Christine after how he'd left things, and yet this was one letter Erik wished he hadn't received.

Meg frowned as she removed the letter from its envelope and skimmed over Christine's elegant handwriting.

Dear Mr. Y,

Thank you again for your hospitality towards me and my son...We have arrived safely in Paris…Out of respect for my marriage it would be best if you and I refrained from corresponding with each other...

Meg looked up. Erik made no move to steal the letter from her hands, so she read on. Raoul had apparently overcome his vices while Christine and Gustave remained in America. For the first time in years, the de Chagny family was truly happy again. What surprised Meg the most, however, was the passage she read when her eyes carelessly dropped to the bottom of the page.

...As your friend, it pains me to know you are so lonely. My greatest wish is that you receive the same happiness of which I have been blessed through my marriage. I know you and Meg Giry are very fond of each other, but that is all I will say on the subject.

Yours truly,

Madame de Chagny

"I think you've read enough, Meg." Erik snatched the letter from her hands when he realized she had been looking at it for far too long.

"I haven't finished!" Meg protested. She needed to reread the last passage to be sure her eyes hadn't deceived her, but Erik kept the letter out of her reach.

"You've read all the relevant portions, I'm sure," he said as he briskly replaced the letter in its envelope and tucked it into his jacket pocket, cursing himself for being so careless and distracted.

"Do you always carry her letter around like that?" Meg asked jealously.

"Yes, it's all I have left of her." Erik reached into his pocket to make sure the letter was where he'd safely stowed it a minute earlier. "Well actually, she left some clothes in the Louis-Philippe room, but I believe your mother would think me weird if I carried women's garments around in my breast pocket."

"Erik, I think everyone would think you were weird," Meg countered. If Erik heard the servants' rumours about their eccentric master, he'd have the entire staff fired on the spot. "Erik, I think you should get rid of that silly letter. It'll make you feel better."

"Maybe you're right…" Erik took the letter from his pocket and chewed his malformed lip as he stared at the paper.

"Of course I'm right." Meg took Erik's hand and led the helpless man down the stone staircase separating the garden from the beach.

"Go ahead, Erik. Throw the letter in the Sound," Meg instructed. Erik took one last look at the words Christine's hand had written and sniveled as he tossed the letter into the Long Island Sound. A breeze coming off the water blew the letter back into his face.

"Meg! It's not working," he whimpered when he found the letter in his hands instead of the waves.

"Maybe try being a little more direct," Meg suggested. She guided Erik's hand to the water and gingerly deposited the letter into the tide. Erik's lip trembled as Christine's handwriting bled into the limp paper as a wave carried the letter away.

"Feel better?" Meg asked hopefully.

"No! That didn't help at all!" Erik sobbed. He waded into the water, despite Meg's attempts to stop him, and ripped his letter from beneath a crashing wave.

"Ugh, Erik! You're a soggy mess!" Meg cried when the dripping man returned to shore.

"Yes, but I got my letter back!" Erik cheerfully waved the waterlogged paper before laying it on a rock to dry in the sun. He took off his wet jacket and sat down in the sand to watch the gentle waves lapping the shoreline.

"I just miss her so much…" Erik whispered when Meg sat beside him.

"Who? Christine or Ayesha?"

"Oh my god! Ayesha!" Erik wailed when he was reminded of the loss of his beloved cat. He had a moment of panic when he couldn't find her collar, but he relaxed when he remembered it was on the garden bench and not at the bottom of the Long Island Sound.

"Do you need a shoulder to cry on?" Meg asked.

"Yes," Erik said as he collapsed on Meg's shoulder. "You're too good to me, Meg. I don't deserve it considering everything you went through on my behalf…"

"I forgive you. You didn't know, but as soon as you found out, you helped me. That's what matters."

"I'm still very sorry…" Erik repeated.

"Erik, I've been wondering, why did you tell my mother I'm different from the other dancers?" Meg asked. When they'd been packing to leave Phantasma at the end of last summer, Madame Giry had told her daughter about her conversation with Erik. The stern ex-ballet mistress had been musing over the crypticity of his words, but the comment had planted a seed of hope in Meg's mind, and Christine's departure from Mazandaran was allowing that hope to flourish. She was dying to know what Erik could have meant by such a statement, but he was taking so long to answer her question.

"I don't know…" Erik finally stammered. "You're different to me, I guess…I've known you for longer! We're friends!"

"Really? Is that it?" Meg said shyly. She shifted her closer to Erik. His heart stopped when their eyes met, but he quickly sat up and disentangled himself from her arms.

"I'm sorry, Meg…" he whispered as he collected his jacket and letter and walked off the beach in the direction of the house.

I'm afraid I don't know how long paper can realistically survive in the water without getting destroyed, so we'll call it an ~artistic liberty~

Also I am very sorry to kill off Ayesha :'(