Blonde Angel
Part 2

"Meg, you've been so quiet lately. Are you alright?" Christine asked Meg one day. They sat on the roof in the sunshine, watching Paris and eating some fruit that Christine had stolen from their manager's office.

"I'm fine, Christine." Meg told her friend, but she was thoughtful too, that much was obvious. "I've just been thinking… did you ever meet that teacher of yours? Did you ever meet your Angel of Music?" She asked Christine, who turned away and looked across the city again. She sighed and took a bite out of her apple.

"He's an angel Meg, you can't meet angels. You just hear them." Christine said, but she wasn't looking at Meg. They had known each other since Christine came to the opera house when she was 7, and Meg knew her friend by now. She knew that when Christine avoided your gaze, there was something she was hiding. Something she didn't want you to know.

"Please Christine, you can tell me… we're best friends, remember?" Meg said and put her hand on Christine's shoulder. Meg looked at her friend curiously, why wouldn't she tell Meg? When Meg knew that the Phantom and the Angel of Music was most likely the same person.

"But I didn't meet him, Meg… stop asking about it, please?" Christine said, and she almost seemed sad now. And Meg would stop asking, but she knew Christine didn't tell the truth. She'd found the door in the mirror, the night Christine disappeared. And she knew the way behind the mirror led to a lake, and that by that lake there had been a man. He had pushed her out of the way to reach his boat; Meg knew he was very real. But maybe Christine didn't understand he was real? His voice had been so beautiful. Meg bet that it could be hypnotic. They didn't speak more on the subject that day.

Meg didn't give up so easily though. Why didn't Christine want to talk about the Angel of Music? At the same time, Meg found herself unable to forget she had met the Phantom of the Opera. And one evening she was on her way to the dormitory again, alone after just having to check her costume for tomorrow, she rounded a corner. Apparently, so did the Phantom at the same time, and she walked straight into his chest. Gasped as she stumbled back, looking up at him. There it was again, that powerful presence and she felt so small and humble near him. "Don't wander alone at night." The Phantom told her shortly, and then with a swish of his cape – which made Meg look down and close her eyes by the sudden gush of wind – he was gone from her sight. She turned on the spot, but didn't see which way he went. He was really quite something. Meg wanted to meet him again, she couldn't help it. Slowly he was becoming an obsession to her, and each time something strange happened on stage, Meg could not help but being the one to state that that was the Phantom of the Opera. No one blamed her though, he was mysterious and all the other ballet girls were interested too.

She found herself walking down the stairs and the corridors again, found herself by the edge of the lake again. The boat wasn't there. Meg wasn't quite sure what to do. Where was the boat then? She had been standing there awhile, and was just about to turn around and walk back, when she heard the quiet sound of something in the water. She looked, and there he came sailing in his boat, the Phantom of the Opera. She waited on the bank until he reached it, and stepped back so he could leave his boat too. He looked her up and down.

"I told you to forget about me." The Phantom told her, and Meg nodded, intimidated by his presence and his demanding words.

"I'm sorry, Monsieur, but I was unable to do that. Can't I ask you just one question?" Meg asked and dared to look up at him. She didn't dare to meet his eyes though. She looked at the mask, so finely sculptured, it fit his face perfectly. She wondered why he had the mask on though, but there had to be a good reason and she'd not dare ask about that. He was quiet, seemed thoughtful.

"One question, then." The Phantom said to her, and Meg let out a sigh, not realizing until now that she forgot to breathe while waiting for him to answer her.

"Why do you teach only Christine to sing? Why not… others of us?" Meg asked, and he shook his head, stepped closer to her. Looked to meet her eyes, but she avoided his.

"That wasn't just one question, Meg Giry that was two." He pointed out to her, "I will answer one. I do not teach the rest of you, because you are not as unique as she. You do not have her qualities." He told her, very frankly, and Meg felt almost sad. Not unique. Did not have her qualities.

"But surely we could have other qualities." She said then, still looking down, and he was quiet for a moment more, seeming to think about what she said.

"And what would such qualities be? You sing well, but I do not think your voice could improve. You dance well; you do not need more teaching. You're a good friend to Christine, you can't teach people how to be friends. Or were there other qualities?" He asked her, and she thought she heard a tiny smile in his voice at least. There was no smile upon his face; he seemed to be a very serious man.

"I think you have something on your mind, but I can't read yours, Monsieur. Please tell me what other qualities you think about." Meg asked of him, and it was almost as if she could feel it in the air, that he was suddenly displeased. She inhaled a deep breath.

"I think of none others. Return to your place at the opera, Meg Giry. Do as I tell you. Do not seek me out again!" And without another word he was back in his boat and on his way away. Meg felt sad as if she'd just been scolded, as if it was a very bad thing to make the Phantom angry like that. She hurried back up to her dormitory, sad that he'd scolded her and perhaps a little frightened too. Remembering how he said to her the first time she found the lake, that curiosity could kill you. But he wouldn't do that, would he? Meg tried hard to forget about him, and tried even harder to convince herself that going back to the lake was a very bad idea. Though of course, in a few weeks time, she'd be unable to resist the temptation. She was too curious for her own good.