Happy New Year! Here to ask another favor: I would like to know if the story by far is what you expect it to be, if you have suggestions or something to say please feel free to leave opinions, I would like to know what you think of it and how I can improve. Now, enjoy!

Chapter 7 Our future

Erik helped Meg down from the carriage, paid the driver and ran to Meg's side as she slowly climbed up the steps to their villa. He walked behind her, feeling that in any moment she would fall down. She turned her pale face around to look over her shoulder straight at him. A weak smile formed on her lips.

"Why don't you walk by my si-"she began, but suddenly she stopped, her eyes closed slowly and before he knew what was going on, she was crumpling to the floor. He caught her, collecting her tiny frame between his arms. He then stood up and walked towards the door. He managed to open the door with one hand and went into the villa. As fast and gently as he could with Meg in his arms, Erik walked to her room and laid her down in the bed. He stood there, looking at her for a moment, her soft blonde curls spread over her pillow.

He got a wet washcloth and put it on her forehead. She was still pale, but her cheeks were getting that pink tint he was fond of. Moving a lock of hair out of her face, he sat down at her side. What had caused her so much worry? Even to the point of fainting? Meg never fainted, he remembered she had said that once, and with a silent laugh he reached out his hand to her face. Gently he traced her bottom lip, amazed at the sensation her warm skin radiated. Slowly he moved his hand up, to trace her cheekbone, then down to her chin. He had only touched a woman's face once before, and Christine's didn't have the warmth that emanated from Meg's skin. With a sudden start he stopped, feeling guilty of touching her porcelain face.

He stood up and walked out of the bedroom, finding on the threshold Antoinette's letter. Erik picked it up and walked down the stairs to the living room where he threw some dry logs onto the fire, making the fire come alive again. He removed his coat, waistcoat and cravat, leaving only with his white shirt, black trousers and boots. Sitting down on the large couch, he held the envelope curiously before him, afraid of what he might find inside. Ignoring all of his fears, he tugged the envelope open, surprised when he discovered that it was addressed to him as well.

Meg awoke slowly, feeling somewhat heavy and disoriented. Feeling surprised by finding herself in her bed, she blinked several times to clear her vision, noticing that the room was only lit by the glow of the moon behind the thick curtains. Lifting one heavy arm to her head, she was surprised at first of feeling something wet, yet comfortable, over her forehead. Lifting it with weak fingers, she realized it was a cloth. Turning her head to the slightly opened door from the bedroom, she then remembered Erik. Sitting up faster than she should have, she felt a wave of dizziness press her back down; taking deep breaths, she closed her eyes, and within moments she was able to stand up. Taking a few hesitant steps she realized she wasn't wearing shoes, she sat again and put them on.

Was Erik downstairs? She couldn't remember anything since he had smiled back at her when they were walking towards the door. Had she fainted? Or just slept through everything? A knot formed in the pit of her stomach as she remembered what had caused her so much distress. Her mother's request. She needed to see Erik, talk to him and explain what her mother wanted. Her stomach growled. Probably she needed to prepare dinner for both of them, and perhaps taking a shower would be nice too. She hadn't stood up yet when the door creaked open and Erik peeked inside. She smiled softly at the sight of his worried expression, trying to show him that she was better than before.

"Do you feel better?" he asked quietly, opening the door a little bit wider, letting the light from the living room infiltrate through the dark room. She nodded calmly and as if it was an approving sign to him, he rushed to her side "You scared me to death, Meg"

"Sorry" she said apologetically as she got up.

"I recall you once said you don't faint?" he teased with a soft chuckle as Meg walked in the direction of the door.

She turned around with an expression of mocked offense "I don't...I just…It wasn't-"

"Understood" he said raising a hand to stop her from her nervous mumbling. Just in time, Meg's stomach growled "I'll take out what's left of Arabelle's pasta"

"That would be nice. I'll go take a bath…I will try to not be very long" she said thankful that the room was dark so he couldn't notice her colored cheeks. With a soft laugh he nodded and walked out to the kitchen.

The moment he was gone, she expelled the breath she had not realized she had been holding. Meg felt hot from the walk to Piazza Puccini and at the same time sweaty from the tension she had felt while she read her mother's letter. She let those thoughts vanish from her mind and walked to the bathroom.

Meg had never had a more relaxing bath in all her life. The bubbles from the peach's oil she had bought the last week gave her the most satisfying sensation of being clean at last. She sank further down in the huge bathtub, soaking her dry hair. A feeling of peace invaded her whole body as she enjoyed the luxury of relaxing after such a long day. She knew she needed to talk to Erik…or maybe if she didn't say anything everything would be all right. If she didn't say anything to him, then their lives would go on as they were at that moment. When January arrived she would return to Paris, making up a last name and excusing her husband's absence: he was very busy with his work.

She was sleepy, her head falling back against the edge of the bathtub, when suddenly the sound of music came floating inside the bathroom and her eyes fluttered open. Erik was playing his violin! It was something dreamy, romantic, yet pacifying and hypnotizing. She gave up to the music, closing her eyes again and leaning against the bathtub. She was sure he was playing for her, knowing exactly how to bring her the peace she desperately needed. Marrying Erik? No, she could never do that to him…and how would he take it knowing that she had flirted with him several times? But it was meant to tease him only! He deserved a woman who loved him and accepted him as he was, with his talents…those eyes…his mouth…goodness! No, she would never think that way about him…she cared about him, as a friend did, nothing more. Trying to clear her mind from all her complicated thoughts, she let the music he was playing invade her soul.

Erik smiled to himself as he pictured the graceful swan swimming through a large pond. She had scared him, truly scared him. As he walked around the living room, he tried to imagine what Antoinette had said in the letter. He had not read it yet, too anxious to sit down and face whatever news Antoinette had. He was playing to calm her down, give her the peace she needed. It was his way of saying that everything would be all right.

When the song was over, he put his violin down and walked towards the kitchen. But stopped at the sight of the letter. Closing his eyes he put his fingers on the bridge of his nose, taking deep breaths. Yes, he was better now. Taking big steps towards the couch, he sat and began reading Antoinette's letter.

Marrying Meg? Running a hand over his face he felt his heart pounding loudly on his chest. He didn't know if he was going to scream angrily or jump with excitement. Antoinette knew how much he had suffered, and now she trusted him with the future of her only daughter. And to make the matter even more complicated, she also informed that the authorities had suspicions of with whom her daughter was.

But if she accepted, the only thing he could offer to her was protection. Meg would gladly return to Paris and face the authorities all on her own, she was stubborn. Erik lifted his eyes to the window, the glowing moon high on the sky. How could she ask Meg to throw her life away? He wouldn't let her condemn herself to live the life he had, a life full of darkness and despair, no. She deserved better than that. She was young and beautiful, a great dancer too. Meg could have any man she desired, and she didn't needed a man like him. She needed a powerful, handsome man who could offer her the whole world, not him, who could only offer safety.

Running a hand across his face, her face appeared on his mind. He could not deny the feelings he had for her, and apparently she felt it too. Their friendship had been a miracle, the light that Erik needed. He had found support, strength and confidence in her to start living a life as a new man, but what did he had to offer to her? Antoinette had left it clear: trust. She trusted him, and scared to admit it, he knew she did, more than he had expected. He remembered how years ago, when her father had died and he lit that candle, she had not feared him. Even when he caressed her cheek, she seemed to welcome that touch…indeed Marguerite was a very strange woman.

And now, only because she had helped him, authorities were suspicious of her. Tightening his jaw, he realized that it was his entire fault. He knew he owed that to Antoinette and now to Meg too. They both had saved his life. The idea was ridiculous. Him? Marrying Meg? It was complicated in his mind, but also such an easy task.

A soft gasp behind him made him turn around. Meg was standing at the edge of the stairs, an expression of shame and horror.

"I'm so sorry Erik" she whispered desperately, running as fast as she could to his side "I had no idea my mother would think of doing-"

"I know, Meg" he said gently as she paced before him.

"She's forcing you to marry me! " Meg blurted out pointing to the letter which rested in the couch "How could she ask you that! And besides, the authorities want to meet me apparently?"

Erik nodded calmly "She only wants you to be safe"

"But a marriage involves much more than just my safety!" she exclaimed desperately throwing her arms around "She knows how many troubles you have had and now she's throwing my troubles to you too!"

"I will manage" he said as he massaged the back of his neck

She looked surprised at him "No one will force you to marry me, Erik"

"No one is forcing me" he answered closing his eyes in frustration "You are the one who needs to make a decision about this, Meg"

She stared at him, suddenly feeling tired again. Never, not even in her wildest dreams she would have imagined that she would be discussing marriage with the Phantom of the Opera. She felt guilty, of dragging him into a similar situation as in Paris, just that it had been different. He was in love with Christine. And definitely he didn't love Meg. She didn't wanted to drag someone into marriage without love, it had been her dream since she was a little girl that she would one day meet a man, he would love her as she was, and probably someday, he would go down on one knee and ask her to marry him. Feeling her head clouded she walked quietly to stand before the fireplace and hugged herself in an attempt to calm down.

Erik somehow understood Meg's frustration, who would like to marry him? He knew she could marry any man she wanted, and now her mother had trapped her in a marriage with him. Following her movements, he stood up and walked silently to stand behind her.

"Can I ask you one thing?" whispered Meg, hugging herself even tighter.

"Of course" he said gently, studying the side of her face which she had turned slightly.

Meg exhaled deeply "If my mother had never asked you … would you have even considered marrying me? "

He bent his head towards her, inhaling the fragrance of her hair "Would you?"

She turned her head, surprised at how close they were. Her gaze traveled over his face looking for a sign of amusement, but there was none of it "I asked first"

He straightened "I can't condemn you to have a life such as mine"

"What kind of life? You have changed so much, Erik! It's different now" she replied.

"I have nothing to offer you…" he said smoothly closing his eyes.

"I'm not asking for anything!" exclaimed Meg.

"I won't let you throw your life away, Marguerite!" he shouted opening his eyes. He was frustrated, how could she want to have a life such as his? Couldn't she see that she deserved a better life? Meg winced and took a step back surprised at his reaction.

"Forgive me" he looked into her eyes sadly "I just want you to be happy, to live your dreams"

"Maybe I want to share my dreams with you" reasoned Meg, taking a step towards him.

"Look at me, Meg" he demanded with tortured voice as he pointed a finger to the deformed half of his face "You can't live with this"

She obeyed, shifting her attention to his face. He breathed heavily as her gaze traveled all over his face. Slowly, she lifted a hand and placed her fingertips softly against his skin. He froze and closed his eyes forcing himself to stay motionless. Her fingertips caressed sweetly the skin, gently pressing her whole palm against his cheek and jaw. He opened his eyes slowly, looking into her warm eyes.

He couldn't look away, her expression calmed and his eyes telling him more than she dared to say. She lowered her hand, placing it over his heart. His throat went dry as she leaned closer, feeling his heart beat faster. Silently he prayed that she wouldn't realize it.

"I'm not throwing my life away, Erik" she whispered, feeling her cold hand through his white shirt "It would be anything but throwing it away"

Without wanting to, he lifted his hand and placed it against her cheek, marveling at how soft it felt. Meg closed her eyes, turning her face against his palm.

"You deserve much more" Erik repeated tiredly.

"What I need is right here" mumbled Meg as she opened her eyes. Meg lowered her hand as he did the same.

He moved his head from one side to another "You are beautiful, Meg…You deserve someone better than me"

They stared at each other silently "Beautiful?" she said surprised "Erik, if I were beautiful I would have married someone a long time ago. And definitely I'm not"

"That's because the right man hasn't arrived yet" he pointed out with a grin.

"Hasn't he?" she observed with a sad smile.

She saw his jaw tense visibly, but kept looking directly at him. At last, she sighed heavily and looked down.

"I don't like to be the one who chases a man, I already said all I had to say…" she took his arm and turned him around. Then she stopped and looked up at him "It's your choice, and please do not let my mother influence the final decision"

He glanced down at her and nodded "Thank you, Meg"

A tiny smile teased her lips and put a hand on his arm "For not forcing you to do something terrible?"

He dragged his gaze from her lips and met her brown eyes "No"

She put her hand on her hips "Then what for?"

"Giving me time" he said with a slight bow.

Meg laughed softly "As much as you need" she assured him.

She would give him the time he needed; she wouldn't marry anyone who she was forced to. Even if he didn't agree to marry her, she knew she would have his support when she needed to return to Paris. Meg knew how hurt he was, and a marriage simply didn't fit in his schedule at that moment. His heart had been broken and probably the thought of loving someone again scared him, as much as it scared her.

"Well, now I think I'll go get Arabelle's wonderful pasta" she giggled and danced off into the kitchen.

Meg was sitting in the corner of the large couch with her legs folded beneath her as she read one of the books she had acquired last week. Her eyelids drooping but fighting to stay awake, she needed to know what would happen in the next chapter! Across from her on the other couch Erik was seated, scribbling in his notebook, drawing sketches of something that was in the living room, probably the small bowl of roses on the table.

Erik traced the same line over and over again until it was perfect. He had never drawn anyone except himself and Christine, and felt rather nervous about how it would be with Meg. It was an exhaustive job, trying to capture every single detail of Meg onto paper: the long curve of her neck, how her lean arm rested on the side of the couch, how her graceful fingers held the book. Her expression as she read, how she bit her bottom lip when she was nervous, or how the corner of her mouth turned up at some part of the story. He had drawn Christine several times, always from memory, but with Meg it was completely different. Having her in the same room, just a few steps away thrilled him, always having to observe Christine from a distance. Of course Meg didn't know that he was drawing her, he would never tell her, she would probably get nervous. He wanted her to be as relaxed as she was now.

He had managed to depict every eyelash and the marvelous way her hair framed her face perfectly, studying her silently as she read. He had sketches of her from every angle, a page dedicated to the different expressions her eyes showed, details of her hair, lips and nose, how her back looked like, sketches of different standing positions, how she held several objects…he had practiced, and this was going to be the first time he would do a complete drawing of her. As the drawing became more detailed, he could practically now visualize Meg in the paper, waiting for the drawing to blink or talk. To look at him and smile, the smile that was only for him.

He couldn't remember what Christine's lips looked like anymore, and he only saw a blur when he tried to remember. Slowly, he was forgetting all the pain he had felt, no more nightmares of angels with dark chocolate curls dragging him into the darkness. Slowly, the curls became waves, golden waves, and the dark terrified eyes slowly morphed into caramel warm orbs. Without even knowing when, Christine had been slipping away from his memory. He didn't think it would have been possible without the presence of Meg, without her surely he would have fallen into the consuming darkness again.

Erik laughed silently as Meg struggled against fatigue, her head jerking as she fell awake each time. Intrigued by his quiet laugh, Meg looked up from her book and raised an eyebrow.

"What are you drawing now?" asked casually as she stretched her neck to catch a glimpse of the drawing from where she was sitting. His hands stilled and he looked up to meet her gaze.

"Hum…" he looked nervously around and then chuckled silently "You. Only if you want to, of course"

Erik lowered the pencil waiting for her answer. Meg stared stunned at him, fighting to not blush at his statement, trying to formulate a coherent sentence to answer, but her throat was dry and she suddenly was speechless.

"Yes, of course you can!" she squeaked "No one has ever drawn me before, what should I do?"

He seemed so embarrassed every time Meg complimented any of his drawings, and now he was drawing her! He was absolutely full of surprises. She remembered the drawings of her friend he had in his lair, making her look angelical and even more beautiful than she already was. How could she compete with that? Meg silently prayed that Erik's abilities would make her look somehow beautiful.

"Just keep reading, don't mind me" she obeyed immediately, returning her attention to the book, although he highly suspected that she wasn't reading at all.

How could he expect her to ignore him? To know he was observing every little detail of her made her completely nervous. Probably she shouldn't have asked and Erik would have continued his drawing, and Meg would have been oblivious to his scrutiny.

"Hope it looks wonderful when it's finished" she sang quietly with a smile.

A few minutes later, she began yawning tiredly, obviously not beeing able to fight sleep anymore. Looking from behind the book, he saw as her head fell slowly to the side of the couch. She hadn't changed the page of the book she had been reading for the past fifteen minutes. He observed as Meg slowly succumbed to sleep, the book falling to her lap, her neck bending down to rest over her arm, unfolding her legs and stretching them in front of her across the couch as she made herself comfortable gracefully. Erik sketched furiously on a blank page all the movements she made, how one arm moved to one side and her graceful legs unfolded, at that moment she looked similar to a swan unfolding its wings.

Any sign of distress or tiredness slowly abandoned her expression as she fall asleep on the couch, oblivious to the fact that Erik observed her the whole process. He drew in the page how her long lashes touched her marble cheeks, her pink lips slightly opened as she breathed calmly. Somehow she had managed to fell asleep with the grace of a dancer, revealing now in her features all her natural beauty. She looked so small, young…so fragile.

After finishing the original drawing he took a moment to admire it. It looked surprisingly beautiful, he had managed to capture every detail, but somehow Erik knew that the Meg on the paper would never be as extraordinary and beautiful as the little dancer which rested truly asleep on the couch. Putting the notebook away, he approached Meg and took her in his arms, smiling softly at the soft sound her breathing made. Instinctively, Meg turned her head and rested near Erik's neck, her hot breath tickling the sensitive skin. The fragrance of peaches from her hair clouded his senses, secretly enjoying the feeling of her warm compact body pressed against his.

He walked up to her bedroom, remembering that he had done the same just hours ago, just that in that occasion she had been truly unconscious, shocked by her mother's request. Softly, he laid her on the bed. He straightened and looked down at her. In that moment, a feeling invaded his whole body, the need to protect this young woman. The need to be with her, to enjoy every laugh, to dry every tear. But what would happen when she fell in love with another man?

He couldn't imagine a day without her, he had grown attached to her smiles, the pancakes with extra caramel, how she blushed when he teased her, the way she bit her bottom lip while she thought. At that moment he knew what he had to do.

Leaning down, he kissed softly her forehead and whispered "Sweet dreams, angel"