A/N I was overwhelmed by the reveiws especially for Ch 4 so obviously the tweeking worked! For atmosphere and inspiration I was burning a sandalwood Yankee Candle which i will now forever associate with Erik...its a very sultry male scent. The Serenity prayer is not mine - it is attributed to Reinhold Niebuhr and wasn't published until about 1934 so i've used artistic licence as it's my story! As usual Erik and all Phantom characters are not mine, just OC's and plot. Anyhoo...their journey continues

There are three masks: The one we think we are. The one we really are, and the one we hold in common. J. LECOQ

Chapter 5

It had mysteriously appeared on the chair in her mother's room. Meg reluctantly admired the illusionist in Erik as she fastened the last of the buttons on the plain navy dress. She had not even noticed it there until she had finished her bath but was certain it was he who had left it. Continuing her ministrations, brushing the tangles out of her long blonde hair; a flush stole across her already warm cheeks as she recalled her first proper encounter with "OG". One moment she felt like she could fight with her shadow and the next the remembered sensation of being suspended in the air like she was floating; unable to speak, unable to do anything but tread water in his eyes, trapped until he had deigned to free her. She really wanted to have words with him over that nonsense while she was bathing but it would keep until she had something suitable to say. He always chose his words so carefully; saying only what was necessary to get his point across and now so would she. She was not like Christine whose mind had been wide open to suggestion and exploitation; probably because she was always searching for some connection or link back to her father's spirit. Meg could understand that. It was not her poor friends' fault she had sparked the interest of what Meg was realizing was a master manipulator. Well, she and only she decided who interfered with her mind so he could forget about whatever he had planned for her. Unlike Christine she knew from the start what he was and what he was not. His heart beat just the same as hers and although gifted in many ways he was just a man. He would not outmanoeuvre her again. She finished combing through her knotted mane and worked it into a long braid that she knew would look ridiculous when she took it out later. They would have to leave tonight and she still had no idea where they were going. She hoped Erik had put as much effort into his plan of action as he had in annoying her so spectacularly earlier. He was maddening in his theatrics as the Phantom and frustrating in his hysterics as Erik. For both she would need the patience of a saint. Part of a long forgotten prayer came to mind as she thought about what lay ahead of her. "God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change; courage to change the things I can; and wisdom to know the difference." It seemed to fit the dilemma that was Erik. She supposed she should check on her mother and eat something, not that her new navy dress left much room for it. Meg cursed her generous bosom which while the dress fit everywhere else, made breathing precarious at best. Between being irritated with Erik, struggling with her ill fitting dress and the fact that she could still smell smoke on the edges of the heady rose scent lingering in her hair, she felt like she needed to have another soak just to calm down. Hunger won in the end.

Erik had the unmitigated nerve to be stuffing himself with food when she stepped gracefully into the small living room, her mother hovering like a hen on eggs. His cape was draped across the back of his chair and part of the façade and a little of his mystery had been dropped with it. He just looked like well dressed Erik now, not malevolent, mischievous Opera Ghost. It vexed Meg greatly that he should be sitting there unceremoniously as if he had not had any hand, act or part in effecting what she could only describe as a trance or some sort of hallucination. She wanted to stamp her foot, shake him and box his ears for meddling with her head to the extent that she could not relax around him. He was gaining the upper hand seemingly effortlessly and she could not allow it.

"Well I am ravenous; all that shriveling has given me quite an appetite. I would not have fit into this dress before my bath!" Meg threw a cheeky glance under her lashes across to where her tormentor was choking on his bread.

Erik had the good grace to blush and gave her a subtle nod in acknowledgment of her direct hit while Madame Giry fussed over her daughter, placing a steaming bowl of beef stew in front of her.

"I trust you had a pleasant bath, my love? I went out to the bank on Erik's behalf while you were dead to the world in there. There is enough to last you months unless you two decide to build your own opera house!"

Erik paled at her words. He never wanted to set foot in an Opera House again lest he get any more outrageous notions.

"I think it should be quite sufficient Antoinette. We will not starve." If nothing else, he wanted to make certain Meg did not suffer as a result of her decision to help him. His years of extortion would guarantee that much at least. She deserved good food, clean sheets to sleep on and hot baths every night. No! Not baths; think of anything but confounded baths.

"So, have you decided where we are going yet? I do not mind telling you that I am dying to know. In fact I spent my entire bath trying to guess, apart from when I received a visitation from the Angel of Impatience." Meg knew she was pushing it with him now but she could not seem to resist teasing. It was far better to make light of what happened than take any of it seriously although she had been in her skin. If it had not been for the now revered wash cloth she would never have been able to look him in the eye again.

Madame Giry narrowed her eyes at the two sitting opposite each other, noticing her daughter's eyes full of mischief and Erik looking like he would spit feathers at any moment. Meg would be alright. Poor Erik would not know what hit him. She had not seen her daughter look so animated in years; sparring with her old friend seemed to be doing her a power of good.

Erik had officially had an overdose of Meg but realized wearily that she had not even started. He had weeks if not months of this to endure and he was going to need all his faculties to deal with her. At the moment his brain just would not stop churning with images of Christine and the blasted chandelier long enough for him to form a reply worthy of his eloquent alter ego.

"I have decided to let fate decide. We shall proceed to Gare de l'Est and take the first train that leaves Paris. Wherever it terminates is where we are going." He might as well leave it to chance as to date his well laid plans had gotten him nowhere.

"Ooh an adventure! Destination unknown…how very mysterious. Where will we end up…Vienna, Constantinople, Monte Carlo? Care to wager on it? I shall bet my precious wash cloth if you like!" Damn! She had not meant to go quite that far but he really was infuriating and besides she was on fire now. Meg should have expected what came next; forewarned as she was by the movement of Erik's jaw, indicating he was grinding his teeth to a pulp and the positively murderous look in his eyes.

"I would not do that if I were you. One should never bet what one cannot afford to lose. As for your little spectral encounter…I believe you did call, did you not?" Erik delivered silkily, fervently hoping this would be an end to it.

Meg sat open mouthed like a fish gasping its last. He had done it again damn him; rendered her speechless. Antoinette Giry could barely contain herself. She dare not laugh at either of them but she so dearly wanted to. It nearly killed her to hold it in. She winced at the thought of the long journey ahead of them and wondered if they would still be speaking at the end of it.

Meg wound the lengths of bandage around Erik's head concentrating on his right side so he could still see out his left eye. She worked in silence having not found the words to respond to his apparently hilarious comment regarding her "visitation". She had not heard her mother laugh so much in years, if ever. Blatantly she had lost that round but she would not be beaten. Erik sat quietly while she attended to him, still reeling from the sensation of having another touch his face. She was itching to argue with him, he could see that on her face, yet her hands were gentle as a breeze and he trusted her. The knowledge alarmed him as he had never trusted anyone to let them near enough to touch his face, not even Christine, not really. The kiss she had given him in pity did not count and he could not bear to think of her betrayal at exposing him the way she had. He knew instinctively that Meg would not hurt him, not intentionally. She had not shied away from him nor displayed any of the usual signs of disgust that he was used to. Her hands were steady and sure as she worked with no trace of hesitation. She finished the bandage, fastening the end behind his neck, careful not to stick the pin into his scalp and patted him on the head like a child.

"There, all done. Not bad if I say so myself. Maybe I should have been a nurse instead of a dancer!" Meg stepped back to survey her handiwork, arms folded under her chest. He looked like he had just been discharged straight out of hospital. No trace of the Phantom...well not really. He looked up at her scratching at the back of his head, and raised his visible left eyebrow. "Well…how do I look?"

"Positively ravishing. Now we must hurry, it is almost time." She allowed herself a smirk at the look of pure astonishment on his face and turned to gather her small case and the leather medical bag her mother found in the prop store. The war had recommenced.

They had said their goodbyes to Madame Giry before they had come back down so all that was left was to leave this place. Meg had collected Erik's precious violin on the way back along with some blank sheets, pen and ink. She left the wax seal. They would take only what they could carry or wear, everything else would have to remain. Meg had put the over sleeves and apron on under her coat so that if they were questioned at least she would look the part. Her hair had been wound around the back of her head and topped off with a starched white bonnet. She felt ridiculous and thought the headpiece totally unnecessary and severe but her mother had insisted.

"You will be glad of it if people start asking questions. Just think and be sensible for a moment."

So she had relented and Erik had sniggered. Her mother had held her close, stroking her hair and her face like she was committing her to memory. She could barely see on the way back down, her eyes full of tears, full of love for the mother who loved her enough to let her go. She had to let Erik lead her most of the way after she stumbled on completely level ground. He did not comment on the big fat tear that had run down her face when he reached back for her hand. Whatever her mother had said to him before they left seemed to have silenced him. She noticed his mood seemed to worsen the closer to the lake they came. The somewhat calm and measured Erik she had seen upstairs was obviously an act for her mother's benefit; the façade not needed any longer. If she had seen him last night she would never have let her go.

Standing in the doorway of the little room that had hidden Erik for the past hours, he was suddenly overcome by a sense of foreboding that had failed him on opening night.

"What is it? What is wrong?" Meg was eager to be out of there but noticed that Erik was rooted to the spot he was standing on.

"I am leaving the only home I have ever known. Perhaps not much by others standards but I was safe here. Once I step out into the streets I am at your mercy. You alone have the power to destroy me." His stomach lurched at feeling so vulnerable. It was not a situation he was familiar with and he was petrified. He had always been the master of his ship. He called the shots upstairs, he issued the orders and they were followed to the letter or he meted out the punishment. He alone controlled his destiny. For years he relied on no one. Not anymore. Now his survival depended on the goodwill of a 17 year old dancer who knew even less of the world than he did. The proud, unflappable phantom within him commanded that he stand to his full imposing height, straighten his shoulders and lift his chin defiantly; totally at odds with the emotions inside him. He did not want the little dancer to see him so exposed. She had seen too much last night and he had been trying to make up ground ever since.

Meg knew exactly what he was doing. She was beginning to understand him and his psyche now whether he liked it or not. She watched in wonder at the transformation happening right before her eyes. The power radiating from him in waves was in direct conflict with the turmoil she saw beneath lashes she would have killed for. Whatever the rest of him was saying, the truth came babbling out of his traitorous eyes. He was struggling to maintain dominance over her and she could see it was killing him. The man had very little left after Christine had ripped through his heart and it amazed her that he was still able to pull himself together like that. Having to rely on her must be devastating whatever male pride he had left and without that he had nothing. This would not do. He needed to assert his authority over her except that she had seen through the veneer to the chaos underneath

"Monsieur le Fantome" she began, for that was the face he was trying to present to her. "It may have escaped your notice but you are probably twice my weight and at least a foot taller. It is quite within your power to destroy me. I think it prudent at this point that we come to an understanding of sorts as we seem to have reached an impasse. I solemnly swear that I will never divulge your identity to another soul without your consent. You have nothing to fear from me. Now swear you will not kill me!" She watched him closely to see if her words were having the desired effect. She was deadly serious! Kill Meg? Hurt her? He struggled with the words that were choking him to say as the Phantom evaporated.

"Do not say such a thing, do not even think it. Ma petite ballerine, I could never…would never…" He shuddered at the very idea of it. She was the only one who cared whether he lived or perished that night.

"Say it Erik. Say the words." Meg stood glaring up at him defiantly, hands on her hips praying he would not suspect her motives.

"Alright, ALRIGHT!" He took both of her tiny hands in his and hoped he looked as sincere as he felt. This was important, he did not want her feeling like her life was about to be snuffed out every minute of every day. He could not bear the thought that she might fear him. "I swear on my life I will never, ever harm you. Satisfied?" He had never promised not to kill someone before.

"Perfectly. Now can we leave? The sooner we get on a train the sooner I can sleep and you will not have to listen to me." Meg stood back waiting for him to lead the way out; satisfied she had restored his faith in his ability to be overwhelming and deadly.

By the time they both slipped into the night onto Rue Scribe he was right back to the sulking, depressed anomaly she was becoming familiar with. On Erik's insistence she was carrying a vast amount of money, claiming if something happened to him she would be able to get back to her mother safely. It made sense but she still felt uncomfortable with a phantom's ransom fixed inside her corset. That was at her mother's request, insisting it was the safest place and that no one could mug her. She should hope not. Even Erik did not know that was where she was keeping it.

It was still pitch black although Meg could see the first hint of dawn on the horizon. They kept to the shadows, out of the way of the gas lamps until they were several streets away from the Opera House. They could not afford to run into anyone from the Populaire that might recognize Meg and ask who her companion was. Erik had pulled on a heavy cloak with a hood so only his chin was visible to anyone curious enough to look. He had also taken a beautiful ebony cane with a silver handle fashioned in the shape of a swan's head. Meg thought it might come in useful to their cover story as he was supposedly an invalid. A passing hackney carriage stopped when beckoned and asked their direction. Meg spoke to the driver before Erik could open his mouth.

"Gare de l'Est Monsieur. We had booked transport to the station last evening but the hotel evidently neglected to reserve it." She looked up into the black eyes of the middle aged man sitting atop his perch. He had a skeptical look to him but then every hackney driver she had ever seen looked the same.

"Newlyweds is it? Off on your honeymoon I suppose?" He leered down from his elevated position and Meg could literally feel Erik flexing every muscle behind her. That man would have a pair of leather clad hands around his neck if he was not careful and Meg would not be able to save him.

"I beg your pardon! This man is in my care. We are on our way to Switzerland where my employer will undergo medical treatment for his injuries. I am his nurse. Not that it is any of your concern." She ignored his blustering reply and held her hand out for Erik to assist her up into the carriage. Sinking into her seat she breathed deeply to calm her racing heart. That lie had poured off her tongue like hot custard. Her nerves would be shot by the time they got out of Paris at this rate. The sensible boots were starting to chafe her feet and she had already begun fantasizing about her next hot bath. Erik handed the bags in then swung up and sat in beside her, his voluminous cape almost smothering her. He leaned over the door to glance out into the night. She had said he was in her care…he had never been in anyone's care.

Meg placed a small hand in the crook of his arm and looked up into his face when he turned to her. "Do not look back Erik. It is behind you now. Your future starts here."

"As does yours, ma petite. By the way that hat is most unbecoming on you." Erik frowned at her as he thumped the roof of the cab with his cane to signal the driver.

"Why thank you monsieur. I wore it expressly to annoy you!"

"I do not doubt it."