Okay, I would like to mention before this chapter that, I have moved this story onto this account, I have recieved an email from a rather frustrating member on FF claiming I had 'stolen' this from another person. I have not. I am both xPennyxTallyx and xTallyxPennyx.

One other thing is before I moved this a reviewer brought to my notice that Meg should be more concerned about the lunatic living under the Opera House. So I've decided to make Meg have a little crush on him so she isn't so concerned about the lunatic underneath her bedroom. Beware I don't use Beta Readers, as I have been ripped off by one before, and I wrote this on a computer that oddly doesn't have spell check on, so all errors are mine alone.

I also forgot to mention in Chapter One : I don't own Phantom of the Opera.

Slight Edit on Feb 13th 2012

Meg sat on the cold stone floor of les Fantômes 'bedroom', torn between watching him eat the soup she made, just to make sure he ate it, and admiring the large phoenix bed he lay in. He appeared to being enjoying the soup, regardless of the fact he made her cook it at an odd angle. She assumed this was due to the fact he didn't know her and he felt he had to ensure she wouldn't poison him.

She had found that he had several masks, many of them black, only a few of them were white. She had been surprised to find a spare white half mask but nonetheless she would fix his other one for him. She had given that one to him before she had cooked his meal, she was of course curious to see why he felt he had to hide his face from her view, but it was obviously something he didn't want her to see. She had decided very quickly that if he did not want her to see she would not look.

Somehow, she knew she had to check his leg. Being a dancer Meg knew how to check for broken bones, all the dancers were required to know here at the Opera Populaire. His reaction to being 'manhandled', as he would likely put it, wasn't going to be pretty. She found herself hoping at worst the bone was only badly bruised, the thought of the Opera Ghost in a cast was horrifying. That was probably because she would end up having to feed the man, among other things. Her head ached at the thought of just trying to wrap his leg. Meg shifted her gaze back to his injured leg, she let out a small sigh and her stomach started doing flips.

Meg decided she should bring up the topic of his injury before she lost her nerve completely "How did you do that to your leg?"

Meg looked up at him praying for this conversation to be simple. He glared, Meg let out a small huff realizing that was going to be his only answer to that question. She stood up, noticing he was watching her as if he expecting her to attack, and walked quietly to the wicker basket she had put next to the entrance to this room, she remained silent as she crouched down and opened the lid, knowing his eyes remained on her. Meg pulled out the clean linens she had put in as a last minute decision, keeping them in front of her out of his view. Meg rose slowly into a standing position and turned around, the linens clutched tightly in her hands rested just below her chest. She noticed his eyes immediately went to the linens, glaring at them as if they would catch fire at his will.

"Monsieur, I would like to check your leg. You may not like me very much, but someone should check your injury" Meg realized he was glaring at her again she found herself sighing and added "Beside yourself. Your injury is not in an easy place for you to examine properly by yourself"

His glare, somehow, managed to become stronger as he pulled the red blanket over his legs. Meg walked over to him anyway, and took the empty bowl from him and placed it on the floor.

Meg sighed, he was acting like a two year old "Let me see"

He didn't move, he just tensed as if preparing to strike her if she dared touch him. Meg dropped the linens on his feet before moving his empty bowl out of her way before kneeling beside his lowers legs. She folded her hands in her lap, and stared at him.

"Let me see, it won't take me long"

His glare turned into a scowl "Fine. If it will shut you up."

Meg sighed in relief as he pulled the blanket back so she had a good view of his leg. Meg was shocked at the state of his leg, large black and purple bruises cover his skin, leaving hardly any of his leg its natural colouring. Her hands lightly skimmed the top of his leg checking for small bumps, after finding none she looked up at him

"Does any part of your leg hurt more than the rest of it?"

"Not particularly"

Meg frowned, she thought Christine was confusing but he was on another level "Was that a yes or a no?"

"Around the middle of it" He sighed shifting slightly not at all appreicating the attention he was getting.

Meg nodded moving her hand to hover her fingers over the darkest of the bruises "Here?"

"Yes"

Meg sighed, removing her hand, and moved to sit on the edge of his bed, much to his joy, so she could look at his leg from a higher view. She almost immediately noticed that his leg was on a slight angle from were her hand had rested. She knew anyone without her First Aid training would have ignored it.

"It looks broken"

Thanks for reading this. You have no idea how hard I found this to write which is why its taken me a while to get it up. I should also mention I don't have any First Aid training and I could only tell someone that they have broken their leg is if it was on a 90 degree angle, so don't use anything Meg did in this chapter to check someone for a broken leg.