Hello, everyone! I was so excited to receive such lovely reviews. I hope you all stick with me in this. I have so many ideas and I hope I can get them all down exactly right.
Thank you!
When the girls returned to the little cottage, Christine couldn't wait to tell Madame Giry the story. She thought it was awfully romantic, though Meg just stuttered and blushed over how the young Vicomte was only being chivalrous. Christine just giggled and described everything to Madame Giry perfectly. She left out Meg's favorite parts though. Like how soft his cheek had felt when she kissed it, or how deep and blue his eyes were, or how sweet and warm his smile was.
Madame Giry only nodded and smiled as she took the shawl and tended to it. She knew the girls were growing up. They were lovely, and only seemed to grow lovelier every day. Still, it made her nervous to think of her little Marguerite becoming involved with boys. And Christine for that matter. Still, she supposed girlish crushes were allowed. And they would leave by the end of the week anyways. The girls would probably forget all about the boy who had saved the shawl.
Meg and Christine went to the beach every single day for the rest of the trip. And every day, the same faces were there also. No Vicomte, or the man who had been with him. Christine seemed more upset about it than Meg was. The brunette must have also fancied the boy as well. That bothered Meg, and she felt silly for even being bothered by it.
On one of their last days, they went to the beach again with Madame Giry and Charlie. Meg held tight to Charlie's leash, practically running to keep up with the big puppy. Christine walked alongside Madame Giry, drinking in the sun's rays. It was the loveliest day of the entire holiday. The sky was bright blue and clear, the air warm with a gentle breeze. Perfect weather for Christine.
Meg was more focused on not letting go of Charlie more than anything. They beat Madame Giry and Christine down to the sand, and Charlie began to sniff around a family's picnic basket almost instantly. "No, Charlie!" Meg scolded, pulling his leash to guide him away. She sent the family an apologetic smile before Charlie began to tug her elsewhere. Madame Giry and Christine finally made it to the sand and laid out a blanket to sit upon. They watched with amused expressions as Meg was pulled in all different directions by the big dog.
"Oh Charlie, behave!" Meg said angrily as the dog pulled her along.
"Do you need some help?" A voice laughed nearby.
Meg tore her gaze away from the dog to look towards the owner of the voice. Her dark eyes widened as she realized that it was the boy! It was Raoul! His hair was dry and blowing every which way from the ocean breeze. It was the lightest, warmest shade of brown Meg had ever seen. His blue eyes seemed to shine in the sunlight, and he was every bit casual as he stood before her. Meg's fingers slipped away from Charlie's leash, and he took off quickly. Meg stumbled, yelping as she fell in the sand.
"Stupid dog." She grumbled as she pushed herself back up. Warm fingers curled around her elbow, helping her rise to her feet. She blushed a deeper shade of red, feeling like a fool.
"Hi." Raoul grinned, his hand remaining on her arm.
Meg gaped at him, her dark eyes scanning his face. "H-hi." She mumbled as she shyly pulled her arm from his grasp.
"I didn't think I'd get to see you again." He beamed.
"Oh...um..." Meg couldn't believe she couldn't find her words. She could be quiet, but she was definitely more outspoken than most girls, including Christine. Why was this boy so special? Meg didn't know. She shook her head a little. "I honestly...didn't-"
A gasp escaped her as she saw Charlie bounding down the shoreline after a flock of seagulls. "Oh, no!" She cried, watching in horror as he knocked over a little boy in his flight into the crashing waves. "No, Charlie!" She yelled angrily, running past Raoul to attempt to wrangle in the stupid dog. She stopped short at the edge of the water, glancing over her shoulder at her mother.
"Marguerite, don't you go in that water!" Madame Giry cried.
Meg groaned and kicked her shoes off along with her stockings, blatantly ignoring her mother. She slipped her petticoats out from under her dress before stepping into the waves after Charlie. It was exhilerating to be in the water like this, though she knew if she went much further she'd probably sink like a stone.
Charlie was riding the waves like he was a fish, his tail wagging out of the water. When he spotted her coming towards him, he thought she was playing with him, and began to run in and out of the water. He barked happily at Meg as she chased after him. "Charlie, please!" She groaned, knowing she probably looked insane to the other beachgoers. She nervously darted in and out of the water, her dress and curls becoming soaked with every splash of the waves.
Her gown was soaked and heavy, making it harder for her to chase after the dog. But she kept going. Her fingers reached for the rope that dragged in the sand, but he was too far ahead. Charlie bounded back into the water again, and Meg followed, despite her mother's shouts to stop. The dog barked as a hand closed around his collar, tugging him out.
"There now, calm yourself, dog!" Raoul scolded. Meg widened her eyes, gasping a little as a cold wave pushed against her small frame. She felt like she was being pulled out, past where her feet could touch the sand. Raoul looked towards her with wide blue eyes, then reached one hand out to her, still holding Charlie's collar. Meg reached for him, but another wave came and pulled her out a little further. She cried out, attempting to kick her legs and arms, trying to keep her head above the water.
Raoul hurried out of the water and handed the leash over to Madame Giry, who kept a tense grip on it.
"Meg! Come, hurry!" Christine yelled. "Oh, oh dear. She cannot swim!" She said quickly, grasping Raoul's sleeve. Raoul looked up at Madame Giry anxiously before hurrying back out into the water. He swam towards Meg, his hands circling around her waist as a wave crashed down over them. He kept a firm grasp on her as they tumbled around under the water. As soon as the water calmed for the shortest of moments, he pulled her up above into the cool air.
Meg coughed and spit up water, her hands encircling Raoul's neck. She kept a tight grasp on him, but it didn't seem to bother him. They made it to shore easily, where Meg continued to cough and sniffle on the sand.
"Stupid dog." Madame Giry muttered to Charlie. "Child, are you alright?"
"Yes...yes, Mama." Meg muttered, her small hand reaching for the wet dog. She patted his head and gave him a roll of her eyes before looking towards Raoul. "T-thank you. You saved my life."
"It was worth saving." Raoul grinned. "I suppose we'll have to give you some swimming lessons, won't we?"
Meg blushed, nodding her head slowly. Christine stepped in and covered Meg with their blanket. Meg hadn't realized she was shivering. And besides that, she was hardly decent now. "We should get you home, Meg. You ought to get dry and warm." Christine murmured. Meg nodded slowly, allowing her friend to help her to her feet.
"I don't suppose we'll ever have a real encounter, hm?" Raoul said, his blue gaze flickering between the girls. They both giggled, glancing at Madame Giry's watchful gaze. "I'll see you next time I save you." He teased.
Meg giggled and shook her head. Before she could respond, Madame Giry spoke up. "Perhaps the young Vicomte would like to join us for lunch."
The young Vicomte did indeed want to. Christine and Meg laughed with him the entire walk back to the little cottage. His presence was like having a permanent sunbeam with them. He was easy to get along with, and had a lovely sense of humor. Upon arriving to the cottage, Meg's uncle tied Charlie up on the porch and scolded him for all the trouble he put Meg through. He made them a special lunch of cheese sandwiches and treated them with little strawberry cakes. Raoul seemed very much at ease with them. Not at all snobby or disgusted by the little home. Meg thought aristocratic families were all the same. The ones they had encountered at the Opera House were always beautiful, but they always had their noses in the air as if they were better than anyone else.
But not Raoul. He was wonderful. Once Meg had changed and they ate together, the three children played in the yard. Charlie sat on the porch, watching them enviously. But they paid the troublemaker no mind. They played hiding games and tossed a ball around the yard. They conversed about silly things and told each other stories as they stared up at the clouds. The girls learned much about him, and his life. They drank in every story with wide eyed fascination and interest.
Raoul was fourteen years old. He had an older brother, Philippe, and two older sisters who were not on holiday with the brothers. His father was an old man, and he had no mother. He liked ships and the ocean and hoped to one day be in the Navy. The girls found it all to be very exciting.
Raoul showed no favoritism to either girls. He made sure they both had an equal amount of his attention. But Meg caught his blue gaze on her more times than she could count. It made her feel warm, and she knew her face was a bright shade of pink. Christine didn't really notice, though it was obvious she fancied Raoul. The girls hadn't had much contact with boys, unless they were the older men in the Opera. Most of them didn't pay them or the other ballet rats much notice. So spending time with a boy their age was rare. Of course they would be silly and girlish with the situation.
Raoul joined them everyday for the rest of their holiday. Which was pretty much only two more days, but he spent every moment with them. He would take walks with the girls or join them at the beach or at the cottage. They would read to each other and laugh with each other and simply enjoy each other's company. They were the best of friends, and during that time they were hardly seen without each other.
On their last day together, the mood wasn't as joyous and sunny as it had been. The girls were sad to have to say goodbye to Raoul. Christine had shared with Meg that she hoped one day they would all reuinte again, that maybe he lived in Paris like they did. While it was possible he did live there, Meg knew it wouldn't be good for their friendship to continue at home. Christine and Meg were ballet rats in the Opera House. It wouldn't be right for the Vicomte de Chagny to be seen with them. As much as Meg had gotten attached to him, she knew nothing could come out of it. She was realistic in that aspect. But she tried not to let it bother her.
Christine and Meg had a beautiful day with Raoul. He brought them fancy treats and promised to write to them. He thought it was fascinating that they lived and danced in the Opera House. He found it rather mesmerizing and always loved their stories from the theater. Meg and Christine sat outside under the large willow tree with Raoul and the treats he had brought them, telling him a particularly funny story of the new stagehand called Bouquet. They all laughed until their sides hurt, simply enjoying each others company.
"Poor Bouquet. I am sure the Ghost will have some fun with him." Meg laughed.
"The Ghost?" Raoul asked curiously. "The Opera House has a ghost? How wonderful!"
Christine rolled her eyes. "I don't believe any of that for a moment."
Meg scoffed. "Lies! Monsieur Lefèvre, our manager, placed the Duke and his wife into Box 5, they had quite the story to tell! You couldn't stay in your own bed for days!" Meg giggled, shaking her head.
"Box 5?" Raoul questioned.
"It's the Phantom's box. Monsieur Lefèvre should have known better than to fill that seat."
"It's the best view of the stage. You can see everything there." Christine explained.
"Well, what on earth happened?" Raoul asked with a grin.
"No one really knows what, exactly. All anyone knows is that the Phantom was not pleased his seat was taken. He scared them so badly that they ran out screaming!" Meg exclaimed.
"Perhaps the Duchess saw a spider. I'd make a scene too if I saw one too big." Christine pouted her lips, and Raoul touched her arm gently.
"You mustn't worry about spiders, Little Lotte." He said softly. Meg sighed at that. She had come across Raoul and Christine reading in her uncle's study one afternoon, curled up with one of Christine's old books. Meg knew it was special to Christine, that her father had given it to her like Meg had been given a book from her father. Both men must have been old souls to leave behind heavy leather books for their girls rather than dolls. Not that either girl would have wanted the latter. But Meg knew the story they had been reading well. Too well. Raoul had fancied the main character's name, and since her description matched Christine perfectly, he took to calling her that.
It was the only thing that bothered Meg. But she tried not to let it bother her. Not today, when they only had so little time left.
"You're so kind, Raoul." Christine murmured, placing her hand upon Raoul's.
Meg looked down at her lap, feeling like she was intruding on a special moment. She bit her lower lip and tucked a stray golden curl behind her ear. Charlie barked at them from the porch, and the moment between Raoul and Christine broke. Meg lifted her dark eyes, smiling a little.
"You two must promise to be safe, hm? Wouldn't want to read about you two disappearing for teasing the Phantom." Raoul teased.
"We promise." Christine giggled.
That night, Meg snuck out again. She knew she had promised Christine she wouldn't anymore, and she hadn't. But they would return home in the morning, and she only wanted time to herself again. At least before she had to return to the business of the Opera House. The ocean was calming, cleansing. So she wrapped herself up in her mother's shawl again and grabbed the lamp off the nightstand and set off. The town was quiet and dark, but she feared nothing. Meg wasn't afraid of the dark. She knew she was safe so long as the lamp remained lit and she could see.
At the beach, Meg sat down on her log and dug her toes into the sand. She set her lamp down on the ground and closed her eyes as the cold ocean breeze blew her golden curls every which way. She liked the feeling of the wind in her hair. A soft sigh escaped her as she hugged her shawl tightly around herself, enjoying the sound of the crashing waves and salty scent.
When she opened her eyes, Meg realized she was standing, her arms outstretched. She giggled to herself, shaking her head as she began to twirl around the sand. Her feet moved gracefully across the sand, and she felt as if she was floating on air. Meg hummed to herself as she did so, her mother's blue shawl curled around her fingers in a secure grasp.
As she spun around, warm hands circled around her wrists. Meg squeaked and whirled around, a scream beginning to form in her throat. A hand covered her lips and she nearly shrieked.
"Meg, Meg! It's me, it's Raoul!"
Her dark eyes opened, and she sighed as his hand moved from her lips. He gave her a grin, scanning her face with his bright blue eyes. She frowned at him, reaching a small hand out to swat at his arm a few times. "Raoul de Chagny you scared me half to death! You do not just sneak up on a girl like that! You really must break that habit!"
"Oh Meg, please forgive me. Truly, I am so sorry I scared you." He clasped her small hand in his, and she couldn't help but let out a little giggle.
"Fine. I forgive you. Just never do it again, alright?"
"I don't know how I ever could." He grew solemn, shaking his head. "Do you and Christine really have to leave tomorrow?"
"Yes, we must. Mama is needed in the Opera House." She sighed sadly.
Raoul simply nodded, his fingers slowly releasing Meg's. She hugged her mother's shawl back around herself, realizing she was only in her nightgown. She blushed, shaking her head a little as she sat back down on the log.
"You're a very talented dancer, Meg." Raoul said as he sat with her.
"Oh goodness, no. I'm nothing special." Meg was thankful for the dim light. Her pale face must have been bright red in that moment.
"Nonsense. I bet one day you'll be the star ballerina! Or whatever they are called." He laughed.
"A prima ballerina." She corrected, sending him a sheepish smile. "Perhaps you're right. Maybe." She murmured, shaking her head.
The pair sat silently for a moment, the wind blowing over them. Meg was still unsure as to how he even came across her, what he was doing out here. But she didn't care one bit. She was so happy to be alone with Raoul for once. Meg adored Christine and didn't mind sharing the attention. But she did like having Raoul to herself.
Meg bit her lower lip, out of habit, and let her dark eyes flicker over to Raoul. She hadn't realized how much she would miss him. They had only been friends for a little while, but she had never had a better friend, save for Christine. When they all had said goodbye earlier in the day, she hadn't felt much. It hadn't hit her. Now, she just studied him, realizing how sad she was that she might not ever see him again. His fingers flexed against his leg, and she quickly looked away, towards the water.
Raoul glanced at Meg this time, watching her as she adjusted her mother's shawl around herself and stared out at the ocean. She was so lovely. Her skin was so fair and her hair so curly and yellow. Her eyes were so dark, so full of emotion. Emotion he had an urge to learn of. Her eyes were what had stood out to him that fateful day he saved the shawl from the ocean. The very shawl she wore now. He had learned so much of the small blonde, and yet there was more he wanted to know. His heart ached knowing she would be gone the next day. He was smart for his young age. He knew the world of aristocracy would never allow he and Meg to be friends, or Christine for that matter.
Her dark lashes fluttered, and she suddenly looked over at Raoul. Both children blushed and let out nervous laughter.
"What were you...I mean...how did you know..." She blushed again, shaking her head. "I suppose I mean, what are you doing out here?" She finally asked, breaking the silence.
"Well...I remembered Christine telling me once you came out here before. She made me promise I wouldn't tell anyone, especially you." He chuckled. "But I thought, maybe by some chance I'd get to see you out here. I was going to give up, but I thought perhaps you'd be here tonight."
"What do you mean? Did...did you come here every night?" She asked curiously.
"Yes." He mumbled, smoothing his hands together nervously.
"To see me?" She felt butterflies fill her stomach.
"W-well yes. I thought perhaps any extra time with you...or Christine...might be nice." He murmured.
Meg's heart sank a little. Of course. Christine. She managed a little smile, nodding slowly. "Well, I'm really not supposed to be out here..." She sighed. "I'd better go before anyone realizes I'm gone." She was standing a little quicker than she realized, her shawl slumping down her shoulders.
"Oh Meg, must you go?" Raoul stood quickly, lifting his hands to fix the shawl over her shoulders.
Her dark eyes lifted, and she bit her lower lip again. Slowly, she nodded. "Goodbye, Raoul."
Raoul stared at her desperately, blue eyes shining in the dim lamplight. "Until we meet again, dear Meg." Before she realized what was happening, his arms reached out and wound around her tightly. No boy had ever held her before. But she found herself lifting her arms and hugging him back. If her mother had seen this, she would have frowned upon it. When Raoul had said goodbye to Meg and Christine earlier in the day, he had politely kissed their fingers and was off.
Meg leaned against him, his tall frame keeping her tiny one shielded from the cool wind. He held her securely for a moment. It was long enough for Meg to listen to his heartbeat, to close her eyes and memorize the feeling of his strong form and scent. When he released her, Meg wobbled a little, blushing as she looked up at him. Her shawl nearly slipped from her grasp, but he reached out and wrapped it around her tightly.
"Wouldn't want to lose that again. You ought to be careful with it, Meg. I may not be there next time you drop it." He warned in a light tone.
Meg smiled, forcing herself not to burst into tears right then and there. "I will."
"Will you be alright? Will you make it home alright?" He asked, his fingers slipping from her arms.
"Yes, yes. I'll be fine, Raoul." She murmured, lowering her dark eyes as she reached for her lantern. She caught one last look at him before turning and stepping away. She walked up the crest before turning to look back at his figure on the dark beach. The moon glowed, just enough now so when he turned around, she caught his reassuring smile.
"Perhaps I'll write to you." She called out.
"I'd like that very much, Meg!"
And with that, Meg turned away with an aching heart and headed back to the cottage, with no real intention of writing the young Vicomte.