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Thanks for all your kind reviews and for reading my short little story. When I say short, I mean, this is the last chapter. I've never been able to write a one-shot, but I figured I could do a two-shot. ha ha. Though this chapter could easily be split in two, I decided not to. So enjoy this unusual pairing and thanks again.
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Chapter 2
~X~
It took a very short amount of time before they made it down to the fourth level, making their way through rooms filled with stage props and other items being stored for later use. Erik regularly ransacked them in search for items that could be of use in his underground home, but during his six-month self-imposed isolation, he could see that he was missing out. He took note of several pieces he felt would look lovely in his parlor, or his music room, intending to come back very soon and mysteriously make them vanish.
"I'm sorry about this," came Meg's voice in the dim light that surrounded the small group. Two of the men carried lanterns, but they were small and the light didn't carry very far. Erik imagined that they had planned it that way, for the other female dancers clung to them quite closely, obviously terrified to step outside the glowing circle. Yet, Meg didn't appear in any way nervous. Instead…apologetic. "I'm certain you would rather be doing anything other than wandering around in the dark looking for something we will never find."
"If you recall, I was the one who urged you to join this expedition," Erik reminded her, the two of them falling back just a bit in order to obtain a measure of privacy as they spoke. "And you believe our search will be in vain? Is that because this Opera Ghost does not exist, or because he is far too clever to be found?"
"Oh, the latter, to be sure!" Meg insisted. "The Opera Ghost exists, I have no doubt about that. Yet, as you said, if he does not wish to be found, he will not be…no matter how many times his domain is invaded."
"You appear to know a great deal about this phantom," Erik mused. "And what has you so thoroughly convinced of his existence?"
"Oh, I've seen him!" the petite dancer stated in a matter of fact tone. "Others merely claim to have, but I have seen him with my own eyes! He exists, Monsieur Matador, of that you can be assured." She then looked up at him and gave him a pained look. "Now you think me mad, don't you? Believing me to be some silly girl who claims the impossible."
"On the contrary, Mademoiselle Giry," he chuckled.
"Please, I've asked you before to call me Meg," she cut in.
"Very well, Meg," he agreed with a slight bow of his head. "I do not think you are mad, nor am I so quick to dismiss your word on the subject. I have been many places and seen many things in my lifetime. Belief in one spectral figure that haunts an opera house is hardly beyond my grasp of comprehension. If you believe he exists…that that is good enough for me."
"Well…thank you," Meg grinned, having thoroughly expected him to currently be laughing in her masked face over such claims. "Yet, do not get your hopes up over catching a glimpse of him, for we will not. The Phantom is not one to make appearances on command, nor is he foolish enough to be caught unaware. This is all a game for them," here she waved towards the small group just ahead. "They will scream, cling to each other, one or two might even faint, and then they will return above, and tell wild tales of what they believe they saw down here. None of it will be real, but it does help to keep the weak-minded afraid of him, so I guess it serves a purpose."
"Only the weak-minded?" Erik asked, his hidden eyebrow raised just a bit. "Are you saying there is no true need to fear this specter?"
At this, Meg gave a laugh, one that sent delightful shivers up Erik's spine. Why had he never taken time to notice this perfectly pleasant young lady?
"Oh no! Only the most foolish would think him benign," the blonde assured him. "You do not want to cross the Opera Ghost in any shape or form, believe me. Yet, if those, like my daring friends here, continue to spread rumors and fabrications of their encounters with him, it helps those who might truly be foolish enough to actually try and find him keep their distance. It is much like putting up a beware of dog sign. If they know the dog is dangerous, it will deter the wise from trying to pet him."
Erik was not sure he approved of her analogy. He was no mad dog! Granted, he did carry a very frightful bark…as well as a bite when necessary, but he was not happy about being likened to a canine. Still, the idea brought back fond memories of his beloved childhood companion, Sasha, and that soothed his damaged ego somewhat.
"So…if this Opera Ghost is so vicious," Erik continued. "Then why are you willing to enter his lair? Do you not fear him as the others do?" Erik was unsure how he wished for her to answer. For on one hand he had worked hard to strike fear into the hearts of those within his realm, desiring their unconditional obedience to his commands. And yet, the idea that this lovely woman might harbor an ounce of dread because of him suddenly turned his stomach.
"It's hard to explain," Meg said, her lips pursing in thought. "I know he's dangerous, I know he should not be crossed, and yet…I have never held the same feelings of terror that others have. I don't know why, but I simply can't generate the same level of fear that others hold for him."
Erik nodded his head, unable to find the right words to speak after her surprising statement. Meg did not fear him. She obviously respected him, of that he was certain, but she lacked the blood-curdling fear that struck the hearts of most whenever his name was mentioned. This pleased Erik very much…more than he expected it to, in fact.
"Which way now?" came the voice of one of the dancers in front of them, looking back at Meg for directions. "I've never gotten this far before."
Meg gave a sigh or resignation, rolling her eyes at the frightened sound of the girl's question. She was about to answer, but Erik stopped her.
"I say go left," he suggested. "Since the majority of the time, one will undoubtedly choose the right. Thus, I say by going left we will stand a better chance of finding what we seek."
The group ahead nodded in agreement, apparently seeing the logic in Erik's words, and veered to the left, heading down the tunnel at a slow pace.
"Well, aren't you being helpful," Meg grinned, finding her Matador's participation rather intriguing. The fact that she knew this was the very way one should go causing her to eye him suspiciously. Was he simply guessing…or did he know more than he was letting on?
"I do love a good mystery," he grinned, eager to see how the troupe would react to what he had planned for them up ahead. Most of the time no one ever got this far before, but what would it hurt to point them in the right direction this one time? Or in their case…the wrong direction. "Come, let's keep up with them, we don't want to be lost down here in the dark, now do we?"
"No, of course not," Meg replied, yet he could hear a hint of laughter in her tone, betraying the fact that she was far from anxious over the possibility.
They traveled on, always heading in a downward direction, following the path that had been carved through solid stone. The eerie sound of water dripping here and there, as well as a few stray bats had the female dancers on edge, clutching even closer to their male counterparts as time went on. Erik was happy that the lack of light hid his smile, just imagining the reaction of what was quickly to come. Yet, he didn't wish for Meg to be frightened, so just before they reached the area he had boobytrapped, he reached out and took hold of her arm, just above her elbow, giving it a gentle tug.
"What?" Meg inquired, stopping as she looked up at her companion curiously.
"Nothing. I simply need a breather is all," he answered, feigning exhaustion, though he was anything but.
"Oh? Really?" she asked, sounding not in the least convinced.
Yet, before she could say any more, there came a loud booming sound from in front of them, followed by the screams of their companions, male and female alike. Meg pulled free of his grip and rushed ahead, nearly being shoved out of the way by one of the men as he ran towards them, obviously eager to get out of there and back to the surface.
Erik placed his gloved hand over his lips, stifling a laugh as he caught the distinct odor of urine as the dancer ran by. He had apparently been so frightened he soiled his pants!
He slowly drew near to where the commotion had stemmed, finding the girls still clinging to the one man as well as each other, attempting to calm their screams at the sight before them. It was merely a prop, a fabricated skeleton hanging from a thin wire, but Erik had to admit that adding the glowing eyes had been sheer genius on his part. A bit of phosphorous paint did wonders.
"Oh, come on," Meg said with a sigh of exasperation. "If this sends you into hysterics, what would you actually do if you came face to face with the Opera Ghost himself?"
"What if that is him, dead these past six months?" Jammes squealed, not even daring to look at it. "Bouquet always says he can burn us with the heat of his eyes!"
"It is highly unlikely that the Phantom has bones made of plaster of Paris," Meg pointed out, reaching up as she used her fingernail to scratch off some of the powder from a legbone. "This is just a stage prop. Now, are you all finished acting like children? Shall we go back?"
"Not on your life!" the final man stated, clearing his throat as he attempted to sound confident. "I say this only proves we are getting close! We should continue."
There was some debate about this from the others, but in the end, they agreed to forge on, with Meg and her Matador once more bringing up the rear. Erik had found this more amusing than he had anticipated, and decided he was looking forward to what came next. Little had he known when he planted these traps that he would be an eyewitness to their effects. If he had, he might have spent a little more time on them, perfecting the execution. Still, as it was, things were progressing just fine, and he almost eagerly pushed them along through the tunnels.
Once again, as they neared the area quickly approaching, he tugged on Meg's arm to hold her back. For the second time, she gave him a suspicious look at his actions.
"Are you feeling feeble and tired again, Monsieur Matador?" she questioned dryly.
"Something like that," he admitted, doing his best to hide his look of excitement as the lone male dancer and the ballerina that was clinging to him stepped over the trap door, plunging them both into the darkness below.
This time the screams were deafening, from both those who had fallen and those who remained above. Even Meg had let out a startled cry, yet it would appear only for their safety, not out of fright. She once more ran forward, teetering on the edge of the hole that had opened up in the floor.
"Michael! Lizette!" she called frantically to them. "Are you hurt?"
The sound of splashing water and sputtering was all that was heard at first, but then came the call that had them all sighing in relief.
"We…we're fine," Michael called up to them. "We fell in water! We're all right."
Meg was about to question how they were going to get them back up, when a large rope appeared out of nowhere, dropping from the ceiling and dangling down into the dark pit. This startled the blonde dancer, and she jumped backwards, but the sudden appearance of the rope seemed to push little Jammes over the edge of sanity, and she fell to the floor in a faint.
"Oh, for heaven's sake," Meg mumbled in a grumpy tone, once more rolling her eyes at the embarrassing antics of her companions. "Can you two find the rope? It's dangling right over the center!" She reached back, grabbing the lantern that another of the girls had managed to hold on to, lifting it up so they could hopefully see to locate it.
"Yes! I found it," Michael shouted up. "I'll hold it steady from down here, so Lizette can climb up."
"All right…we'll be here to grab her when she does," Meg informed him. Then looking back at poor little Jammes, unconscious on the ground, she added, "Or at least most of us will."
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It took little time for the two of them to climb out through the trapdoor, their fear and chill from the frigid water being highly motivating. Once they were up, it was decided that they would go no further, not wanting to end up dead the next time they encountered one of the Phantom's traps. Michael, though shivering and wet, offered to carry little Jammes back up, seeing as how she was in no condition to do so on her own. All the while, Erik had stood back, silently chuckling at his handiwork and the effects it had on the dancers. He would have to make sure to be on hand the next time anyone ventured down to hunt for him, for this had been highly entertaining. Erik's eyes lit up with excitement as an idea came to him. He might even send out invitations…with maps!
As they made their way back up the tunnels, Erik couldn't help but notice that Meg continued to stare at him, as if trying to piece together a puzzle. It was both unnerving and thrilling at the same time. He enjoyed her scrutiny, oddly enough.
Yet, he was quite perplexed when only a few steps before they would have exited back onto the ground level, she reached out and halted him.
"Are you now the one who is too tired and feeble to continue, Mademoiselle Giry?" he asked, humor in his tone.
"Hardly," she scoffed. "I simply don't wish to return to the party just yet," Meg told him. "Care to follow me on yet another adventure, Monsieur Matador?"
"Back down to the Phantom's lair?" he questioned, thinking that would not be the wisest choice.
"No…the opposite," she grinned, holding out her hand in an invitation for him to take.
Erik paused for only a moment, doing some mental calculations over the time. He figured he still had an hour at least before he had planned to make his appearance to the managers with his new opera. He could spare a few more minutes with the delightful Meg Giry and still make his deadline.
So, placing his hand in hers, he let her lead him through twists and turns – ones he knew like the back of his hand - up staircases and across catwalks, until they exited at last onto the rooftop. The evening air was brisk, but hardly chilly, and Meg seemed to embrace the temperature change with both arms, breathing in deeply as she closed her eyes.
"Perfect!" she hummed in satisfaction.
Erik found he had to agree, but he did not mean the weather, he meant her. Still, as he looked around, he recalled that the last time he had been up here was the night the Opera had performed Il Muto. The night that he had overheard Christine telling the vacuous vicomte that she loved him. Erik could feel his blood boil at the memory, of how he had felt so crushed, so betrayed, that he had foolishly brought the chandelier down on stage in a fit of anger. He had regretted that soon after, it being one of the reasons he had chosen to entomb himself in his lair and focus on his writing, and not interact with anyone for many months. It had been his penance…and it took him that long to simmer down after having been so deceived.
Yet, tonight, he was standing here with another…not Christine. Meg had led him up to the heights this time, desiring his company over her friends once more. He stared up at Apollo and his lyre, recalling how he had hidden behind its large form, huddled in darkness as his heart and mind had grown even darker. But not this time. He was standing in plain sight, and the view before him took his breath away.
"I love coming up here," Meg announced, walking to the side and looking over the stone wall at the city below. "I can see everything on a clear night, all the way to Montmartre." She reached up and pointed at the cathedral sitting atop the hilltop. "Up here I feel…free."
"And might I enquire why it is you feel so hindered?" Erik asked, coming to stand beside her as they both gazed at the city lights.
"Many reasons," Meg informed him absentmindedly. "First there's my mother, who seems to think I am still a child and treats me as such. Then my dancing, which I worry will never lead to the fame and fortune I had always dreamed. I mean I love it, I truly do, but getting noticed for your talent is a shot in the dark at best. Maybe if I was a singer, or as talented as my roommate, Christine, but…sadly, I can't carry a tune in a bucket and lately I'm starting to feel a bit overlooked." Here she turned and glanced up at him, her cheeks growing red in embarrassment. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to dump this all on you. And I know it sounds very petty, but it gets rather frustrating when nothing good ever seems to come your way. Understand?"
"Actually…I do," Erik muttered, leaning his forearms on the brick wall as he laced his fingers together. "This world is full of unfairness, where some rise to power and prestige and others are forced to wallow in obscurity. It matters not if they are worthy of such a position, just that the fickle hand of fate has chosen to grace them with the touch of gold, or..." he had almost said the face of a monster, but he had thankfully caught himself in time.
"Exactly," Meg sighed, either not noticing that he didn't finish his sentence, or choosing to ignore it. "And while I only allow myself to wallow in self-pity occasionally, it's nice to know that there are those out there who understand where I'm coming from." She grinned up at her companion, the light of joy returning to her eyes. "Now enough of this, let's instead talk about something else."
"Anything you have in mind?" Erik questioned, a bit concerned by the sudden gleam of mischief he saw in her eyes.
"How about the way you seemed to know more than you should about our trek to find the Phantom's Lair?" she suggested, leaning forward as she rested her chin on her knuckles and stared at him expectantly. "I would very much like to hear about that."
"I do not know what you mean," he lied, stiffening up just a bit.
"Oh, so you just happen to have pulled me back exactly before the skeleton dropped and the trap door gave way…both times?" she pressed, her eyes bright with humor and excitement as she watched him for a reaction.
"Intuition?" Erik offered, not wishing to admit his guilt, yet oddly unwilling to outright deny it either.
"Riiiiight," she hummed, not fooled for a moment, yet polite enough not to push. They were quiet for a long while, the two of them enjoying each other's company and the view, before Meg spoke again. "I saw him once," she announced out of the blue. "The Phantom, I mean."
"I recall you saying so in the tunnels," he responded, not sure how the conversation had circled around to this again.
"No, I mean I saw him," she repeated, this time emphasizing the word she wished to stress. "I saw the Opera Ghost…without his mask."
Erik's head jerked around as he gaped at the tiny dancer, his jaw dropping open, imagining he had somehow misunderstood her. It couldn't be! He had always been so careful.
"It was many, many years ago," she went on, not looking his way or acting as if she noticed his stunned reaction. "I was upset with my mother about something one evening and ran off to pout. I was sitting on one of the overhead catwalks, when I spotted him on the darkened stage below. He seemed very tall, but then again, I was also very short at the time, and he was wearing a black fedora hat and a cape, so he blended in quite nicely. Yet, he stopped right below me, just far enough to the side that I had a perfect view of him. I recall holding my breath, fearing he would look up and find me there, but he was far too interested in something he held in his hand than in me. I couldn't make out what it was, but whatever he held made him sad."
"Sad?" Erik was confused. He wracked his brain to recall the incident, yet he was unable to ply his mind to the task when she continued speaking, not wishing to miss a moment of the story.
"Yes, he twisted it around his finger several times, rubbing the back of it with his thumb, as if it were a cherished memento," Meg continued. "Then, he reached up and removed his mask, apparently to wipe at his eyes, which I was shocked to find were full of tears. He was crying, and I had no idea why." At this she turned her face to his. "It was that night that I ceased fearing the Opera Ghost as others did. For it was that night that I came to realize that he too had feelings, just like us…just like any human does."
Erik didn't know what to say, for how did one respond when given a gift beyond price…humanization. Never had he expected anyone to see him as anything but a monster and a threat, but here was this delicate ballerina speaking of the Opera Ghost as if he were nothing more than any other man…one who had feelings and could feel pain.
"And did…did his features not horrify you?" Erik asked at last, having to swallow several times in order to get his words out.
"I suppose I was startled…at first," she shrugged. "Mostly because of all the rumors that had been circulating, but to be honest, it wasn't as bad as I had imagined. Many soldiers have come back from war looking worse than he did, but where others see them as heroes…they claim that he is a monster. I hardly think that's fair."
"I believe we already established the fact that life is not fair," Erik grumbled. "Yet, I find your compassion for him and others very admirable. If only the rest of the world saw things as you do."
"It doesn't hurt that I know my mother owes much of our livelihood to the Phantom as well," she chuckled. "He has been very generous with us over the years, and we are in his debt."
"I hardly believe that," he scoffed. "I am certain that he is the one indebted to your mother for all her efforts in helping him perpetuate his ghostly persona."
"Perhaps," Meg nodded. "Mother is very good at what she does, both on the stage and off. I'm sure it's what they call a symbiotic relationship. One that benefits both parties." Just then a gust of wind blew over them, causing Meg to shiver as she rubbed her arms with her hands to stave off the cold.
"Here," Erik offered, removing the red cape he had worn over his shoulder, offering it to her as he helped drape it snuggly around her. "Is that better?"
"Yes, thank you," she smiled, pulling it tightly about her shoulders. "You know, for an unwilling participant who was originally roped into all this, you're turning out to be quite enjoyable company."
"And for a brash and pushy future prima ballerina, you are quite delightful yourself," Erik chuckled, amazed that he meant every word.
"So, you think I'm brash and pushy, do you?" she questioned, her expression morphing into one of mischief. "Then perhaps you won't be so terribly surprised if I do this?" And before Erik could even fathom what she meant, Meg went up on her tip-toes and wrapped her arms around his neck, bringing her lips to his in a very unexpected kiss.
Erik froze, every muscle in his body going rigid as ice. Meg was kissing him! Kissing…him! And while somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew he should react in some other way than complete paralysis, he simply couldn't! He had never been this close to a woman before, not his mother, not Madame Giry, or even Christine! He had lived his life unloved, uncared for, and most certainly untouched…at least by hands that did not mean to inflict pain. His lips burned with a fire he had never dreamed he would experience, and he found that even if he couldn't respond, he could certainly revel in the new and fascinating feelings overtaking him. Erik was being kissed.
Sadly, as he had suspected, this joy didn't last long, and much sooner than he would have liked, Meg pulled back and looked up at him in embarrassment.
"I…I'm sorry," she mumbled, her eyes dropping downward as her cheeks became a lovely scarlet color. "I didn't mean to be so forward. My mother often says I leap before I look, and I am so sorry if I offended you, Monsieur Matador."
"E-e-rik," he all but gasped, his voice raspy and thin as he attempted to speak after such an experience. "My name is…Erik."
His words brought Meg's eyes back to his, both searching for something they desperately wanted to see reflecting back.
"It's very nice to meet you, Erik," Meg grinned.
"And I assure you, Mademoiselle Giry, you in no way offended me, nor do I find you at all too forward," he continued, wanting to make it crystal clear how he felt about her kiss. "I was…simply taken off guard is all. But please believe me, I enjoyed it quite thoroughly."
"As did I," she blushed once more, but never let her gaze fall. "And since it was mutually pleasurable for both of us, how about we try it one more time…just to be sure."
"I would not be opposed to that," Erik was only too quick to agree.
So it was, that the Opera Ghost found himself on the receiving end of the second kiss he had ever experienced in his lifetime, and best of all…this time he was a willing participant. Granted, he had little experience with such things, but thankfully instinct kicked in, and he followed Meg's lead, hoping that he was not making too much of a fool of himself. Where the first had been jarring, the second was much better, the two of them slipping comfortably into each other's embrace. Erik found he loved the way she hummed during the kiss, causing tantalizing vibrations against his lips. He also enjoyed her tender, but firm, grip on his neck, as she allowed him to rain light kisses on all the exposed flesh beneath her mask. Her lips, her chin, her cheeks and even the small spot behind her ear that caused her to emit the most delicious moan of pleasure he had ever heard. Oh, this was undoubtedly the happiest he had ever been in all his life.
When they drew apart at last, both were breathing hard as they continued to stare at one another. Erik was afraid to speak for fear that the moment would shatter into a thousand pieces, never to be reformed again. Yet, despite how much he desperately wanted this to continue, he knew it was not possible. So many things stood in the way…his monstrous face being top of the very long list.
"Meg…as much as I desire to continue, I…I think we should stop," he choked out, detesting the words on his lips. "We cannot do this. It is not fair to you."
"Why not?" she questioned, giving him a smirk. "Was I not the one who kissed you first? If you think you are leading me on, or some such nonsense, rest assured I am in full control of my faculties."
"Your faculties perhaps…but not the facts," he stated sadly, taking a step back and letting his hands fall to his side, when all they wanted to do was grab hold of her and pull her closer. "You are acting on misinformation, and as such I feel it necessary that I take my leave of you. Thank you for a very pleasant evening, Meg…it is a night I will never forget."
At this he quickly turned, heading for the door on unwilling legs, yet he forced them to comply. He might be considered a monster, but even he would not bring any harm, physical or emotional, to such a compassionate woman.
"It's one I won't forget either, Monsieur Matador," Meg called to him as he walked away. "Or should I call you Erik…or perhaps, The Phantom?"
This caused Erik to stumble to a halt, his back once more ram-rod straight as he slowly turned to stare at the dancer behind him. Had he heard her correctly?
"I know who you are," she stated, answering his unspoken question. "You are the Opera Ghost. The Phantom of the Opera. And I'm also willing to bet that you are Christine's Angel of Music."
"How…how do you know?" Erik was dazed and shaken by her words…each one of them the complete truth.
"I think you already know the answer to that. I've known about you all my life, I've listened to tales, heard my mother speak of you, and then of course, there was Christine, who talked about her glorious Angel nonstop for years on end," Meg explained, taking a few cautious steps towards him. "I will admit that I was suspicious of your identity tonight when you insisted on me calling you The Matador, but when you navigated the ghost's lair so easily, there was no doubt left in my mind. You are him. In the flesh."
"Yes…in the deformed flesh!" Erik spoke harshly, suddenly worried that this little pixy would soon be calling for help, wishing to turn him over to the authorities for a handsome reward.
"Ah, but you forget, I've seen what you hide beneath your mask," she reminded him, now only a few inches separating the two of them. "I have seen what it is you choose to conceal…and it didn't stop me from sharing, what I consider, a most passionate kiss with you. You do not frighten me, Erik."
"Then you are a foolish child," Erik responded, though his tone was far less stern than when he last spoke.
"No, I am a woman! One who has cared about you since she was very young, but a woman nonetheless," she corrected. "I have felt your pain, seen your struggles, and wanted to punish everyone who had ever hurt you in the past. Tonight I was able to live out a dream…that of dancing with you. Of spending the evening in your company, and in your arms. I think I've been in love with you since I was eight years old." Here she gave him a shy smile. "Granted, I never told my mother about my fantasies, feeling that she would disapprove."
"I am more than certain she would!" Erik scoffed, just imagining what Madame Giry would do to him if she was privy to this conversation.
"Yet, it has never stopped me from imagining a night like tonight," Meg continued, boldly reaching up to encircle his neck with her arms once again. "And I for one, would like it to see it continue."
Erik could never recall being so tongue tied, or at a loss for words, in his life. How had this night turned out so different that what he had planned, and in such an amazing way, no less? If he wasn't so sure that he was indeed awake, he would believe this was all a dream. And yet, this was so beyond any of his pathetic fantasies, that he knew it had to all be true.
"Meg…I do not believe you know what it is you are saying," he stammered, her touch and nearness having a profound effect on him.
"Erik, I am not a child," she stated firmly. "I am not some flighty girl who can't make up her mind what she wants, nor am I seeing this situation through rose colored glasses. These feelings will not go away, nor do I want them to. I want to spend time with you, get to know you better, and perhaps discover if you are able to find it in your heart to care for me."
"Oh, Meg," Erik sighed, his arms automatically reaching out to hold her as if his life depended on it. "I would be hard pressed indeed not to allow such feelings for you to grow within me, and yet, I still do not think it wise. What would the world say…what would you mother say?"
"I don't know…should we ask her?" Meg questioned, a sly grin coming to her lips.
"NO!" Erik barked out, though there was humor in his tone, as he knew she was teasing him.
"Excellent, then you agree that we should continue our relationship in secret!" she stated hopefully.
"Relationship?" Erik was rather unfamiliar with that word…at least where it pertained to him. "You see us having a…relationship?"
"Well, I'm certainly not the type to play loose and free with my affections," she told him rather crossly. "If you do not wish to go about this the proper way, then speak now, for I will not…"
"NO!" he quickly cut her off, not wanting her to get the wrong idea. "I would be more than honored to court you, in any way you please! I simply do not know how to go about such a thing. I have never been in a relationship before, nor had I ever dreamed of being blessed by the privilege."
"I've never been courted before either," she assured him shyly. "So perhaps we could both learn together?"
"I…I would like that very much," Erik told her in a gentle whisper.
"Shall we seal it with a kiss then?" Meg asked hopefully.
"It would seem the proper thing to do," he nodded, grinning happily at this sudden, and most unexpected, turn of events.
Their third kiss was slow and soft, the two of them taking time to become familiar with their feelings. Erik found he loved the way she was running her fingers over his shoulders and down his back, enjoying the way his own hands nearly encircled her entire waist. He could feel himself shaking slightly, and tears pricked at the corner of his eyes, threatening to fall as wave after wave of emotions overtook him. If this was a dream, Erik never wanted to awaken. And if it was truly reality, then he swore he would never sleep again for fear of missing even a moment of such bliss.
Somewhere in the distance, a bell tolled the hour, causing Meg to pull away rather suddenly.
"OH! The time!" she squeaked, her hands flying to her head in shock. "My mother will be wondering where I am! No doubt she's already sent out the gendarme looking for me! I have to get back to the masquerade ball!"
"Of course," Erik agreed, not wanting to worry Meg's mother, or be caught by her while attempting to woo her daughter. "Allow me to escort you, for I would not have you traversing the passageways this late at night alone."
"And who would I have to fear?" Meg giggled. "The Opera Ghost?"
"Oh, no, my sweet Meg," Erik told her in all earnest. "You never need fear him, for he would lay down his life to protect yours."
"My, my…but you do know how to make a lady's heart flutter," she whispered back, her voice nearly stolen by his sentiments.
"I have made a woman's heart skip a beat in fear. I have made one or two faint from fright. But never have I had the privilege of causing one to flutter before," Erik confessed, loving how Meg's eyes appeared to become rather dreamy.
"Then this, along with many other things tonight, shall be a first," she concluded, taking his proffered arm as they headed for the doorway. "But I can guarantee that it will not be the last time you make me feel this way."
"I will do all in my power to see to that," Erik smiled, knowing he meant every word.
.
.
Their trip down the stairs was made mostly in silence, attempting to avoid any who might be lingering around, not wanting to be seen on their way back to the ballroom. When they at last reached the large double doors, Erik stopped Meg before she could enter.
"When can I see you again?" he begged, not daring to let her go without a promise of there being a next time.
"Anytime you wish," she said, giving him a saucy wink. "You are the Phantom, after all." Yet she quickly became serious. "I will meet you on the rooftop again tomorrow night after dinner."
"Come before dinner," he urged. "I will supply the food, if you provide the company."
"Now that is an offer I will gladly accept," Meg grinned, quickly reaching up and giving him a quick kiss to his lips. "See you then." And with that, she was gone, slipping through the door and weaving through the crowd of guests.
Erik stood there and watched her go, his fingers gently touching his lips as he reveled in the new sensation such displays of affection afforded him. He still couldn't believe it…she had kissed him, several times! And she knew who he was, she knew what he looked like, and still she had not shied away. How had he overlooked such a goddess all this time? Had he been blind?
Just then he spotted Madame Giry approach her daughter, speaking with her as her arms waved around in obvious agitation. Thankfully, whatever Meg said seemed to placate the often-volatile woman, and she appeared satisfied. The blonde dancer hugged her mother and then flitted away, more than likely to visit with some of her friends. Erik took a step back when his box-keeper's eyes turned in his direction, not believing she could see him from where he hid, but it unnerved him nonetheless. He breathed a sigh of relief when she turned once again and continued on as if everything was fine.
That's when his eyes fell next to Christine, still being fawned over by that buffoon of a Vicomte, Raoul. Yet, as he watched the two, Erik suddenly realized that he didn't feel upset…and not even a bit jealous. At first, he found this odd, and a bit disturbing, yet the more he thought on it, the answer came to him. He had never had true feelings of affection for Christine. Yes, he had been jealous of her time, and felt that the boy was taking her away from her lessons…but in the end, Erik had been obsessed with her voice, and not Christine at all. She had simply been an instrument he wished to perfect, while Meg was a woman he wished to pursue.
Erik found himself smiling as a chuckle escaped his throat. All this time he had been so confused, imagining that feelings of affection existed when there were none. Not him for her, and certainly not her for him…if the way she continued to gaze at the Vicomte was any indication. It was then that he noticed that Christine's eyes mirrored those of Meg's, but the amazing part was, the blonde dancer had been looking at him at the time! It made his heart soar to think that he at last was the recipient of her amorous gaze, and he could only imagine that he looked no less adoring than Raoul did when he looked back at Meg. And Erik loved it.
Shutting the door all the way, he turned and headed for the secret tunnels, recalling his plans for the evening. His opera and Red Death costume still awaited, yet he no longer found he wished to make an appearance this night. No…first, Erik had some work to do. He would let everyone have their night of fun and frivolity. He would allow Christine to hang on the arm of her lover. And he would not make his demands on the managers just yet.
Slipping into one of his secret entrances, he retrieved his costume and musical score, heading down the tunnels towards his lair. He was still anxious to see his masterpiece performed, however, he would spend some time adding in one or two very special dance numbers, geared to showcase one very special ballet dancer in particular. He was already humming a tune as he imagined Meg gracefully dancing to it on stage. Ah yes, he would do it for her.
Tonight had been the night. The night Erik believed he would at last get everything he ever dreamed of. True, he had been waiting six long months to see his Don Juan Triumphant presented and performed at his opera. Yet now, all that paled in comparison to the hopes and dreams that grew within his heart over the promises that little Meg Giry had made. She said she loved him. She had kissed him…and all the while knowing what he looked like beneath his mask. Oh yes, everything had changed in a mere moment, assuring him that Don Juan was not the only one who would triumph, for this time, Erik would as well.
The End
And there you go, Erik gets his happy ending. He and Meg will continue to court...and hopefully M. Giry won't kill him before they figure out how this all ends. ha ha.
Did you enjoy Erik having far too much fun leading the dancers down in his lair?
And of course Meg knew all along who he was...and wow, she saw him without his mask. So her kissing him can be taken as real affection, since she knew what he's been hiding.
Thanks again for reading! I hope to see you all again, you just never know when my muse will lead me back here to Erik.
FP33
Guest Reviews:
If you leave a guest review for THIS chapter, I will be updating this posting periodically to answer you here. So if you leave me a review, check back in about two or three days to see my response.
Guest: I'm glad you like the dancing and their conversation...Meg was enjoying it too, and so was Erik after a bit. ha ha. And yes, this is a Meg and Erik pairing. Never tried it before, and while I couldn't think of a full length story line, this was fun to play around with. And as you saw...the Red Death confrontation didn't happen, Erik has other plans now. ha ha. Thanks for your kind review.
St. Cyr: I appreciate your enthusiasm for more of this story, I just hope this last chapter satisfied your craving. I never planned to take it any further, but I did have fun with it. From your second review, I bet you've read Prelude by BenSara, where Erik and Antoinette Giry get together. I think everyone has their favorite parings, and I've read so many different ones that are great. I still write mostly E/C...but you never know what will pop into my mind and demand to be written. ha ha. Thanks for your kind words and hope you enjoyed my tale. FP33
Guest RP: Oh yes, we do love mischievous Erik...he's the best. Then stick him with an equally silly Persian and you have a recipe for fun. Sorry, no Persian in this short story. I do like Meg too, she is feisty. Thanks.
Reviews for chapter 2
Guest: I'm happy you found it sweet. Erik deserves sweet now and then, right? Thanks for reading. FP33