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Chapter 3-Life

She returned-she returned with a basket full of flowers of every color. Of lilacs, violets, peonies, gardenias. And his favorite. Roses. She had picked out a handful of them-vivid with life and fragrant. The soft petals were a brilliant crimson. And she had taken that raven hair ribbon she had worn on her hair and had used it to tie the roses together. To form a neat bouquet.

She returned-she returned to him wearing a dress that was colored a soft pink. Her blonde hair was adorned with pink petals and her eyes now held the soft, youthful expression that he once knew long ago. When she had been little more than a skinny dancer who leaped into the air with her feet perfectly pointed. When she had worn tutus daily and had told stories of him-how well she had grown!

"So you've returned," he began, looking at the raven eyed girl. "...You decided to return." He noticed her pink lips quiver slightly as she looked down at the ground, refusing to look into his eyes.

"Yes, Monsieur. I have returned," she replied, setting the basket on the floor.

"It is wonderful to see you again, Miss Giry...where did you get such a beautiful dress?"

"I...It was gifted to me, Monsieur Erik."

"Really?"

"Y...yes."

"Who would have the money to buy such an expensive dress? It seems to be made from only the finest of silks." Slowly, the girl turned to face him. Her lips continued to quiver as she took hesitant steps towards him. "Well?"

"A baron."

"A baron?"

"...Yes." His gaze dropped to her left hand-it was absent of any glove. He searched for a ring-some gold or silver thing-on her fingers. He found no such thing-her hand was unadorned, left free of any jewelry. "I am not engaged to him-nor do I plan to be."

"Then why does he buy you such beautiful things, Meg?"

"He wants my hand in marriage-but I do not want to be his bride!" She took a breath. "All I want is happiness. I cannot attain it if I am to sit at a house all day...acting like a china doll..."

"Is that why you came? To run away?"

"N...no. I came to face it."

"Face what, my dear?"

"...My feelings." He stood from his chair and walked over to her, arms open. Without thought, the girl fell into his arms and clung to him. "I love you," she whispered. "...I've loved you ever since Mother died and I came to visit...and we cried and it was then that I knew...that you were no monster. You've never been one." He stared into her eyes and placed a soft finger on her top lip, beginning to trace the shape of them-small, pout-like lips that deserved to be kissed over and over again!

"No one could love a creature like me."

"But I do!" Tears began rolling down her cheeks-no longer pallid but a soft pink. "You're all I have..." His hand moved to wipe her tears.

"Stop crying," he whispered, "Someone as beautiful as yourself should not cry."

"I cannot help but cry when you do not believe me."

"But what could a beautiful creature see in something as grotesque as a corpse?!" he cried out, almost laughing at the sheer ridiculousness of the thought. "You deserve someone far greater than I." At this, Meg pushed Erik away and turned around, refusing to face him. How his words hurt her! She had nothing in this world! No friend to call her own, no lover to soothe her. Not even a mother. All she had was Erik. The man who watched from the shadows. That was all she had-and now, he refused to let her love him! He refused to let her give him what little she had left of her heart. "Meg..."

"What?!"

"Understand, it is difficult for me...she never loved me."

"She is gone! I am not Christine-nor will I ever be! She and I are not the same! I can give you everything you've wanted...but I can never be Christine." It was true-Little Meg would never be Christine. She was far too spirited to change herself for any man. No, she would never be his dear soprano-never his Christine. But she could be his Meg-if only he let her! "She may not have loved you, but I do! I do! I do! I d-"

"Enough!" he cried out. Silence replaced the near hysterical cries of the Little Giry. "I cannot risk my heart being broken twice."

"And I cannot risk seeing it! Which is why I am telling you that I love you!"

"Those are just delusions...you'll find someone-perhaps your baron..."

"...Why is it so difficult for you to believe that I sincerely love you...?"

"I have been lied to my entire life. Why should I believe you?"

"I promised I would never leave you-and I have remained faithful to that promise, Monsieur Erik." He said nothing. "...I must go. I have work...the flowers and food are for you. I shall return tomorrow."

He could not sleep. He lay restless and stared at the ceiling-cracked and grey with soot. Why was it so difficult to believe that Little Meg could love him? Her own mother had shown pity upon the hideous creature-she had taken him in and had shown him some strange semblance of kindness! Could Little Meg not do as her mother had? She had already proven that she cared for him-she brought him little trinkets she found and spent her time with him. She graced him with her soft beauty.

All she asked was to give him the love she felt for him-and he refused it. Why? Was it because she was not Christine? Not his soprano? But Christine had never been his. Perhaps Meg would never be his, either. But he could still love her-he could still let her give all of herself to him if she so wished! Tomorrow, he would tell her. He would tell her that he wished for her delicate, precious love.

And that he would love her in return.

She returned the following day, clad in a simple day dress. She brought food once again and after she gave it to him in a silent fashion, she went to sit at her usual station to fuss over her embroidery.

"You remind me of your mother," he mumbled as he took a bite of the sandwich that she had prepared. "Always busy."

"Oh," was her tiny reply as she continued.

"Take it as a compliment, Little Meg."

"...Thank you, sir."

"You've grown quiet today."

"I prefer to remain silent, if you'd let me."

"I was thinking...perhaps I do believe you...perhaps I can accept the fact that you love me." She set her needlework on the floor and turned to face him-large eyes wide with disbelief.

"I don't believe you."

"You must believe me! I tell the truth!" he cried. How the tables had turned! Yesterday it was she who was begging that he believe her-now it was he! Slowly, she stood and walked towards him, reaching a hand out. "D..do you believe me?" She said nothing but smiled her sweet, genuine smile. And he took her hand.

"I believe you," she whispered before placing a gentle kiss on his lips. "Do you believe me?"

"I do and will every day of my life!" Before she could respond, he kissed her once more. His fingers ran through her thick curls and he felt her arms wrapped tightly around his waist, refusing to let go for fear that he may leave if she did. "I love you, Marguerite Giry." He stared into her eyes as she smiled-all the pain she held in those gorgeous eyes disappeared and love, joy, and happiness took their place almost immediately. He could feel her tremble against him as she opened her mouth-unsure what to say.

"I...I love you, too," she replied softly. "E..Erik, come with me...come live with me-I am so alone...the house is so large for a small thing like me. Will you join me?"

"M..Meg..."

"You can make your music in the attic! We have such a lovely attic! And...I have a spare room...it can be yours...I don't want to be alone any longer."

"Neither do I."

"Then come with me." Once more, she held her hand out.

And he took it.

No longer would either of them be alone.

He had her-and she had him.

Author's Note: Psst, this isn't the end. Trust me, there will be plenty of more chapters up. Thank you for your patience and I hope you enjoyed this chapter!