Disclaimer: All references to the characters from the Gaston Leroux's The Phantom of the Opera belong to their pertinent parties and publishers. I do not claim ownership to the characters, any iteration from a major production of the same material, and / or the original source material.
De petite souris a monsieur chat: Chapter 10
September 1882: In the Opera House, Box 5
That night, silently, Meg slipped out of the dormitory and past her mother's room at the end of the hallway. In bare feet and her dove grey shawl, she held the mask wrapped in his handkerchief close to her. The theatre at night became eerie without the sound of music and voices to fill its vast empty space. Dodging the watchman's lantern, she snuck into the theater proper and headed towards the first tier of boxes on the wings. Carefully she turned the latch of Box Five and found it unlocked.
With a held breath, she opened the door enough to slip inside. The curtain blocking the view of the main audience had been drawn shut leaving the room pitch black. She stepped further into the room and bumped into a chair. Feeling for the bottom of it, she pulled the wrapped mask out and set it upon the chair. She thought she saw a faint white outline of the half mask staring back at her from the seat of the chair. Behind her the latch on the door locked from the inside. She drew in a breath and listened. She thought she heard the soft rustle of the curtains, but wasn't sure until two footsteps sounded on the rug.
"Why did you keep it?" said a voice in front of her. The mask turned and hovered slightly in the air.
"You've been kind to my mother and I," Meg replied quietly. "We owe you some small amount of compassion."
"You don't," he said honestly. He had paid his debt to Madame Giry for saving his life upon arriving in Paris, and yet here her daughter felt compelled to save him. She owed him nothing. "I brought your mother misery that night."
"And she betrayed you to Raoul out of fear of what you were doing and are capable of," Meg replied. "She did it because she couldn't find another way to stop you from hurting yourself and everyone here." Meg shook her head. "She won't tell me why she did it in the first place. So, I didn't tell her about the mask."
The Phantom ran his thumb over the mask's face. The empty eye stared back at him. Unlike the worn mask he had been wearing over the past month, the pristine white mask he had fashioned himself. The older one had been a gift of sorts, he recalled. Now the empty eye socket of the mask stared back at him as if questioning his next move. Will you or won't you? The girl is a threat. She is vulnerable now. She dropped her guard because of your honesty. She came alone. Carefully he slipped the white mask into his black jacket's inner pocket.
"Monsieur Fantôme," Meg began taking a step towards him or so she thought. "Mother says you keep your promises."
"I try like any other man," he admitted not noticing her hand in the darkness.
"Then can you try to let Christine go?" she pleaded feeling her hand touch a fabric and firm body. The chest rose once and held. It surprised Meg to be physically touching the Phantom. "Let her go so we can live in peace without fear of you. This place has seen enough death and misery."
"I refuse to promise anything to a ballet rat..." he rumbled growing angry at her presumptuous gesture. She pulled away at his harsh reply as if bitten by a dog. He smirked knowing she couldn't see his reaction to her own. Good, you should be scared, girl. He dropped his voice to make it reassuring and comforting. "But I will try."
"Thank you," Meg sighed with relief. He sounded so threatening, but his last words offered hope. Meg let her guard slip having achieved her goal of a promise of peace. Suddenly a gloved hand gripped her throat and her hands flew up to claw at the hand. She gasped trying to breath but the hand squeezed tighter.
"Remember, little mouse," he breathed closing the gap between them. Too easy, little mouse. You should never trust me. He smiled hearing her whimper in pain. "Utter my name once to anyone, tell them that I live and can be found, and I will break your pretty little neck. Understood?"
He squeezed again making it difficult for her to respond. He felt rather than saw her head slightly bob up and down with difficulty. Until he let go, Erik hadn't realized he had lifted her off the ground. She fell awkwardly to her feet and doubled over coughing for air.
"Better run to your mother's skirts, mademoiselle," he sneered as he opened the door and walked out of Box Five into the dim hallway. By the time Meg recovered even to breath evenly, the Phantom had disappeared.
"You're life is in my hands, sir. You shouldn't threaten the one person who holds it," she muttered with difficulty under her breath. The faint light from the hallway spilled into the box. She found her shawl and wrapped it around her shoulders as she nearly ran out of the box. A taunting laughter seemed to echo in her ears; it's owner, however, felt a tug of anger at the truth in her words. His existence belonged to another once again.