Meg Giry raced down the cold stone stairs in a manner completely inglorious for a dignified ballet teacher. Only moments ago, Edith and Frances had come to her in tears, saying that Danielle was still missing when she should have been back hours ago. Even the stoic little Frances girl had been moved by the absence of her new friend, tears gleaming in the corners of her emerald eyes. After reassuring the two girls as best as she was able, she left them in the care of the cooks, who promised to occupy the two till her return. Meg's mind was a jumble of thoughts as she traveled into the bowels of the opera house. If Christine's daughter was missing, there was only one logical outcome… that he had finally noticed her presence.

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The masked man was greeted by a very unhappy Meg Giry as he stepped through the mirror in the now-unused dressing room. She was older than he had remembered her to be, especially considering the age of the little Christine he held in his arms. But his mind, twisted and confused, simply assimilated this fact and deemed it to be rational and nothing to be troubled with.

"Meg Giry." He said, nodding his head civilly in her direction.

"Phantom." She said coldly, eyes never leaving his. Her mother had placed a good deal of trust in this man, but Meg had never been able to forge the relationship with him that her mother had. She remembered, or chose to remember, only the bad.

"I have returned your friend. She is unharmed, except for what damage she did to herself."

Blood pressure rising, Meg balled her petite white hands into fists. "What. happened." she growled, reaching possessively for the small girl who still lay unconscious in the phantom's arms.

"Nothing she did not inflict on herself." The phantom repeated, eyes glowing with anger. He had never liked this Giry girl, and she was trying his patience. As if he would ever hurt the sleeping angel he held so lovingly. "She fell and hit her head. I merely gave her a restorative and lulled her back to sleep. She will sleep soundly through the night. Tomorrow, however, she will have a terrible headache. I advise you to let your mother know that Christine will not be attending practice ballet tomorrow."

Meg's eyes winded. Mon dieu. She decided it may be better not to trifle with his idea just yet. She had never known the Phantom to be a stable man, and if his delusion was snatched out from under him, there was no telling what acts of violence he would be capable of committing. She had the ballet girls to think of, and the opera was just beginning to regain some ground after he destroyed it so grandly the last time, for the love of this girl's mother. She would not chance her home again, not if the thought that Christine was still alive and in the opera house was the only thing holding it together.

"I will tell my mother, Monsieur le Phantom." Meg said, arms outstretched. "Let me take Christine back to our room." She pleaded, beseeching the dangerous iron-haired man.

Reluctantly, the Phantom gingerly relinquished the sleeping girl to Meg's outstretched arms. "Take care not to drop her." He growled, eyes smoldering. "Give her some tea when she awakens." With a whirl of his cape, the masked Phantom disappeared behind the mirror once more. Not the first time, and probably not the last.

Meg looked down at the sleeping girl in her arms. She could easily see how already-unstable Phantom took her to be her mother. Aside from her straighter hair, the only noticeable difference between Christine and her daughter was her daughter's piercing grey eyes. Her inheritance of her mother's looks had driven a man, already insane with grief, even further away from reality until he had created his own to comfort his aching soul.

Meg stared at the mirror, wondering if the Phantom of the Opera still stood on the other side. He was dangerous, maybe even more so now that he was delusional. Danielle would never understand how lucky she was to have returned to the world of the light so easily. Meg narrowed her dark eyes in anger, wrapped her arms a little tighter around the slumbering girl. Her eyes glowed and fierce scowl was written on her features – for all the world, she quite resembled a mother bear in all her rage.

"Erik, leave us alone."

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Danielle giggled at herself for stumbling in the lush grass of the meadow. Her dark hair, unbound for once, streamed behind her as she chased some unknown creature of her own design. Her skin had the slight brown tint of outdoor summers, her cheeks the pink flush of health and joy. She was barefoot, and comfortable being so – she was free, and besides, there were no rocks or otherwise painful obstacles in her meadow. Far away to the right, she could see her father and her sister – they were waving to her, beckoning her to come near. Danielle stopped in her tracks, hair settling in disarray over her neck and shoulders. Why would they possibly be calling her? They were far off yet, and Danielle chose to ignore them. She turned her back to the two, and ran off in the other direction. A little of her previous cheer had fled, but she still clung to her happy grin. Her eyes sparkled with newfound mirth as she created a new adventure in her head. Sitting down in the soft grass, she picked two flowers and toyed with them casually, careful not to bruise their fragile buds. The sunlight warmed her back as Danielle hummed a tune to herself.

"Dany?"

Mama! Danielle abandoned her flowers, and ungracefully scrambled to her feet.

"Here I am mama!" She called, arms outstretched. "Catch me mama, here I am!" Her mother was only a few feet away from her now, kneeling down in the soft lawn. She grinned at her youngest child, a warm and welcoming smile that reminded Danielle of cookies and beautiful bedtime lullabies from her younger years. Giggling, she launched herself into the air, and was caught soundly by two strong arms who swung her into the air.

"Reynard?" she asked, leaning back in her older brother's embrace. He gave his sister a rare, true, smile, before handing her small form to her waiting mother's arms.

"You didn't catch me, mama." Danielle pouted, but only for an instant. She laughed joyfully, and threw her little arms around her mother's neck. "I love you mama!" She cried, burying her nose in her mother's curly tresses. Her mother smelt of roses, and the dampness of a summer morning. Her mother answered in turn, her voice lilting and happy like Danielle always remembered.

"Sing me a song, mama!" Danielle giggled, and squirmed to be put down. "Sing me a song from the opera!"

Danielle's smile fled as a cloud passed over her mother's pretty features.

"Oh Dany…"

Danielle held her hands out to her mother, a confused and perplexed look blossoming on her features. "I'm sorry mama, I'm sorry, I didn't mean anything by it, please don't cry mama!"

Christine knelt down in front of her daughter, and embraced her tightly. She made no sound; not a single syllable escaped her rosy lips.

"I'm sorry mama, I'm so sorry, please forgive me!" Danielle cried, unsure of what was causing her mother's distress.

Through her blurry eyes, Danielle could see her father and sister standing behind Christine. Danielle let go of her mother, and straightened up to face the rest of her family. A glint of anger she had never known her father's eyes to posses smoldered in them now, and he placed a heavy gloved hand on her mother's shoulder. Christine's eyes traveled up the arm that held her shoulder in its vise-like grip, wide with trepidation. Slowly, she stood up, and took the hand on her shoulder with both her own. Her eyes never once left Raoul's.

All four turned their gaze towards Danielle in one smooth, snapping motion. It appeared to the young girl that the meadow was not as bright as it once was, and the grass now prickled beneath her feet. Expressive grey eyes widened in fear, she stepped away from her family. Four pairs of eyes bored into hers – two filled with anger, two pairs begging forgiveness and pleading for her silence.

But with a flash of light, neither the meadow nor her family stood before her anymore. There was only the ceiling of her dormitory in the opera house.

Danielle sat straight up, gasping for breath. Trembling fingers clawed at her shoulders, shuddering and trying to quell the sobs the dream had awakened in her chest. Her mother was dead; she had not just talked to her, she had not asked her to sing or even given her a hug. Nothing she had done mattered, because it was all a dream. Leaping out of her bed, Danielle paced the floor in a fashion resembling a caged animal, hands buried in her thick chocolate hair.

"Danielle, Danielle, calm yourself." The smooth, soft voice of her ballet teacher wafted through the darkness, stopping the terrified girl in her tracks. "It was only a dream, Danielle."

Danielle reached out blindly, looking for affection, a hug, reassurance, anything. The hurt that welled up once again inside her chest refused to be subdued; she could not put it back into its neat little box.

Meg Giry embraced the heartbroken young girl, wrapping her arms lovingly around her small frame. All of the times she had held this girl's mother in a similar fashion came back to her in a flood of cheerless memories. Christine had never fully recovered from the death of her father, and a nagging sigh in the back of her mind told her that that Danielle's path would not be much of a deviation.

The frightened and broken girl Meg held in her arms made no sound; her silent cries rending the heart of the stern ballet mistress in two. Closing her eyes, Meg tilted her head to the ceiling as she cried the tears she had never shed for the death of her dear friend. She remembered all too acutely her own pain, that she had hidden from sight for so long. The death of her father, the loss of her mother due to age and stress, and the untimely demise of her dear best friend all clawed at separate corners of her heart, bringing the walls she had held in place for so long to a crashing demise.

Completely unbeknownst to the grieving pair, a pair of shining iron-grey eyes studied them from the shadows. Erik had his secrets, and his secrets are Erik's alone.

author's little note: another kind of "filler" chapter. I promise, things will pick up! This is prolly my least favorite one Ive written so far. It didnt come naturally at all (curse you, writer's block!) Im not very happy with it. As always, your feedback and comments are welcomed, suggestions or the pointing out of grevious errors are also wonderful things indeed. hope you guys are enjoying this so far! once again, I dont own POTO or any of the cannon charecters.