HOWDY!
I made it so the lead ballerina in the Il Muto ballet was Meg. Just kind of a good headcanon for me to work with. I hope you all enjoy this chapter! I didn't want to take away the meaning behind Raoul and Christine's rooftop union like in the original, but I do hope you guys like the interaction with Meg and Raoul! It took me so long to figure something perfect out and I really hope it works.
I didn't think it necessary to write out The Mirror scene through Stranger, since just about the same happens as it did in the musical. But I thought it necessary to include this little scene between Erik and Christine.
Enjoy!
"Philippe, if you're coming with me, would you mind quickening the pace? Surely it doesn't take that long to shave." Raoul leaned against the doorjamb into his brother's bathroom, his toe tapping against the floor impatiently. Raoul was fully dressed and ready for the opera for that evening. He had spent all day just thinking about the show and seeing Meg again. Upon arriving home the night before, his older brother was still up sorting through paperwork, so the two had chatted for a while. He had been interested in taking in a show with Raoul, which the young Vicomte was happy to do.
But goodness, was he anxious to get there!
"My dearest brother, I think you're at the age where one has learned patience by now." Philippe chuckled, not changing the pace of his shaving one bit. In fact, Raoul swore he was going slower.
Raoul grumbled and crossed his arms over his chest. "I just don't want to be late. And of course now you choose to be a sloth."
"You're such a child." Philippe teased, rinsing his blade before continuing. "I thought you said we needn't be there until seven? It's only six now."
"Well...you never know how the roads can be at this time. Carriages everywhere..." Raoul sighed, adjusting the scarf resting on his shoulders.
Philippe held back a laugh. His little brother had come home the night of the Hannibal gala going on and on about the little blonde girl whose shawl he had saved from the sea. He hoped his brother knew the problems that could come about in the aristocratic society if the Vicomte seriously considered marrying this girl one day. But Philippe, as stuffy as he came across, understood love. He knew Raoul was wrapped around that girl's finger from the moment the young Vicomte had jumped into the ocean willingly, and had been for years. Their father and sisters didn't notice the faraway look in Raoul's eyes or the disappointment anytime mail came and nothing was for him.
Going into the Navy had been the best choice for his brother. It had made him tougher, it had taught him a lot. He had learned that not everything came easy, that the world behind their polished walls was harsh and deadly. His brother had come home a man.
Still, it wasn't lost on Philippe how Raoul would still scour the mail each day with that childish gleam in his blue eyes. He knew that when Raoul would sit and stare off at nothing, he was thinking of that girl from the sea. No matter how tall his younger brother stood or the stern expressions he had at times, he always waited for that little blonde girl's letter.
Nevertheless, as sweet as it all was, it wasn't right. The de Chagny's had a reputation to uphold. Raoul could have his fun for now, but in the future he would need to be serious. He would need to marry a reasonable woman of a good family and continue the heir and take care of the family should anything happen to their father or Philippe.
Philippe just hoped his brother realized that now, before anyone got hurt.
Christine expertly laced Meg's costume silently. Christine was lucky to have such a simple costume. Meg's was heavy and lacy. Beneath her maid's bonnet, her golden curls were pinned expertly atop her head, a floral wreath pinned in for the ballet in act three. The other girls bustled around them getting ready and giggling, while Meg and Christine kept quiet. A few girls joked with them that they were practicing for their silent roles of the night. But the girls only were focusing, preparing inwardly for going onstage. They always did before a show, no matter the size of their role.
At least Christine was.
Meg's mind was running a million miles a minute. One moment she would be thinking of Raoul, of what he had said to her the night before, and the next she would think about the warnings she had heard the Phantom make to her mother. Madame Giry had no idea her daughter had come across them and had been eavesdropping, and Meg definitely didn't tell her mother or Christine what she had heard.
Erik wanted Christine in the lead role, to shine as she had in Hannibal. But the managers gave in to another diva who was much more famous, who was more recognized. It didn't matter that Christine deserved the spotlight, that the audience had loved her.
Meg just hoped the managers understood that Erik really was The Phantom of the Opera. He took his job as the Opera Ghost seriously.
When he meant a disaster beyond imagination, there would be one.
"We are so very honored to have you both join us tonight. It's quite a treat!" Monsieur Firmin beamed at the older, blonde de Chagny.
"I'm pleased to be here. Raoul has spoken so highly of this beautiful place and I thought it was time I come see world renowned Opera Populaire." Philippe said easily.
"And we are ever so grateful for your support." Monsieur Andre said. "I do hope you enjoy our newest opera tonight. It's a bit of a laugh."
"Indeed!" Monsieur Firmin chuckled.
"I'm sure I will." Philippe smiled politely, and glanced at his younger brother. They were on the top tier of the lobby, and other theater-goers were passing them to get to their seats. Raoul seemed to be distracted, and his blue eyes flickered around almost nervously. Searching for his little ballerina, Philippe supposed. Perhaps she was a great beauty, for Raoul's attention to be captured so.
"Your brother sat in on our rehearsal last night." Monsieur Andre murmured. Raoul looked towards the managers and his brother quickly when the charismatic manager spoke. A sly smile curled Andre's lips upwards at the young Vicomte's quick glance over. "He was quite the hero."
"Oh? What did my valiant brother do now?" Philippe smirked, knowing that by the flushed look on his brother's face, it must of had to do with the little ballerina. "He's always bounding in and saving people." Philippe murmured, sending a teasing glance towards his brother.
"Why, he saved one of our finest ballerinas, the ballet mistress' daughter!" Firmin chuckled.
"Would that happen to be Madame Giry's daughter?" Philippe grinned now, and all the men glanced at Raoul with sly grins.
"Indeed. She's such a pretty little thing, isn't she Firmin?" Andre chuckled. "Quite a lovely little thing for you to have, Monsieur le Vicomte. I do hope she proves fun for you."
Raoul widened his bright blue eyes as the older man winked at him. Was it possible for a man to be interested in a young woman for anything other than physical needs? Meg was astoundingly beautiful and graceful, but there was so much more to her than just that. Raoul had only skimmed the surface as a boy, yet he wanted to know more about the little ballerina. He wanted to know what made her laugh, what made her cry, the things she enjoyed and the things she hated. He wanted so much more than what these men thought.
"My brother and I actually met Miss Giry and her friend Miss Daae' when we were much younger. I have no doubt they have both become lovely young ladies." Philippe smiled, taking the attention off of his flustered brother.
"Why, I had no idea!" Monsieur Firmin chuckled.
Raoul squeezed his gloves in his hands tightly, nodding slowly. "Indeed." Raoul murmured. The lights in the lobby began to flicker, alerting the opera goers of the time to take their seats. Raoul let out a sigh of relief and his shoulders straightened as he smiled. "Gentlemen, if you would care to take your seats, we shall be sitting in box five."
"Do you really think that's wise, Monsieur?" Monsieur Andre murmured to the young Vicomte, attempting not to glance at the older de Chagny and alert him of the problems they had had.
"There appear to be no other seats available than box five. Look at this crowd that has shown up! Box five is the only one open." Raoul practically babbled. A laugh escaped him and he shook his head shyly. "Come, it has the best view anyways."
The managers followed Raoul and his brother down the hall and into the special box. Madame Giry had been directing a few guests to their seats, and looked up as the gentlemen filed into the box. She quickly stepped forward and touched the young Vicomte's arm.
"Monsieur, do you think that's wise?" She asked in a low voice.
"Madame, there are no other seats available. Nothing shall happen, I can assure you." He chuckled. "Do give Meg my best. I'm sure she will shine tonight. Christine too." Before the ballet mistress could say anything more, Raoul slipped into the box and shut the door. Raoul sat beside his brother, while the managers sat behind the pair.
"Is everything alright?" Philippe asked. "Why the apprehension with this box?"
"An old superstition. Everything is fine, brother."
At least that's how things seemed.
The show started perfectly. The stage was set with all the bright, elegant set pieces. The mood was light, and the orchestra bouncing and happy. Everyone was in their element. The audience roared with laughter and La Carlotta was doing a lovely job. Christine even shone in her silent role, giving even a silly role like this her all. In fact, her little actions and movements were what the audience reacted to more. Meg wouldn't let her worries get to her. Maybe nothing would happen. Maybe Erik would leave them alone, just this once.
Or not.
"Did I not instruct that box five was to be kept empty!?" A mighty voice suddenly growled. The lights of the chandeleir flickered from the force of his voice, and gasps were heard in the theater. Everyone froze, the orchestra stopped. Except Meg.
"He's here! The Phantom of the Opera!" She couldn't help but shriek, her fingers grasping her costume tightly as she scurried across the stage. Her dark eyes flew upwards towards Raoul in box five. The young Vicomte was leaning over the edge of it, sending Meg a reassuring nod. Meg swallowed hard, her small hand lifting to her chest where her heart pounded. The reassuring look in Raoul's eyes made her turn back towards the audience.
"It's him, I know it, it's him." Christine whispered to herself, her blue eyes lifted skyward nervously.
"Your part is silent, little toad!" La Carlotta hissed, grabbing the poor girl's arm in her tight grasp. Christine was frozen, allowing the diva to shoot the insult at her. What could she say anyways? Still, Christine sent La Carlotta a cold look.
"A toad, madame? Perhaps it is you who are the toad!" Erik laughed, the lights flickering eerily. His voice echoed about the theater, sending chills down everyone's spine.
La Carlotta released Christine and let out a little laugh. The audience still wasn't completely comforted, despite the easy smile on La Carlotta's face. She instructed the maestro to continue, despite the gasps and soft protests from the other actors onstage. It wasn't a smart thing to test the Opera Ghost. Everyone knew the different things he was capable of doing.
The orchestra picked up again, and Meg watched as Christine attempted to get back into character. It was difficult. The poor girl was officially distracted now. La Carlotta continued easily, despite the obvious chill in the air.
Just as the diva began to sing, her voice turned to a terrible croaking sound. Everyone gasped, and a few laughs escaped the ballet girls offstage. Meg sent them frowns, which did nothing to silence them. A laugh Meg could not ever attempt to silence sounded out above them, in an almost mad tone. Everyone seemed to hesitate, but La Carlotta determinedly continued on. All that escaped her was awful, terrible croaking sounds. The laughing got louder from the Opera Ghost, and the poor diva reached around her in tears, the sound still escaping her. Christine gently reached a hand towards the panicking diva, attempting to comfort her and calm her down.
"Behold! She is singing to bring down the chandelier!" Erik laughed, his voice turning crazed and hysterical. Everyone lifted their gazes to the exquisite chandelier, which was indeed shaking and trembling like the poor diva was.
Piangi ran onstage to La Carlotta and pulled her away, shielding her as best as he could with his short, stout frame. The rest of the cast stood by, unsure of what to do. Even the orchestra remained silent. Now what?
"Ladies and gentlemen! We apologize!" Monsieur Firmin spoke up from box five. The inhabitants of the box didn't seem much phased by it all, even Philippe. Raoul couldn't tell if his older brother thought it all part of the show or if he actually took it seriously like everyone else. Nothing ever seemed to phase the older de Chagny. "The performance will continue in ten minutes time when the role of the Countess will be sung by Miss Christine Daae'!" He waved at the brunette onstage, who ran off to the awaiting Madame Giry to help her change and prepare quickly.
The rest of the cast was just left onstage, staring dumbly at each other. "Ladies and gentlemen!" Monsieur Andre suddenly yelled, coming onto the stage. He was out of breath from his run, but he managed to remain as calm as possible. "In the meantime we shall be giving you the ballet from..." He flipped through his program, muttering to himself before lifting his head with a grin. "Act three of tonight's opera!" Everyone onstage rushed off, hurrying to pull the set pieces out. "Maestro, the ballet! Now!"
Meg rushed backstage, hurrying to change out of her maid's costume and into her nymph costume. She was supposed to go offstage during a scene between Serefimo and The Countess and have plenty of time to get it perfected. Now she had to rush! Thankfully the other girls dancing in the scene were already prepared, and could cover for Meg as she hurried.
Meg spotted Christine hurry away down the hall to a private dressing room to prepare. Meg was stuck with the other girls who had been in the first scene, cramped and squished together as they quickly changed. Still, they each helped each other and hurried away towards the stage again when finished. They waited for a cue from Madame Giry when to slip in. Two girls were sent out, and Meg waited patiently before her mother waved to her as well.
Dark eyes caught the slightest movement above her as she stepped onstage. A shadow moved across the backdrop, and she quickly looked up. All she could see was a dark figure moving in a catlike fashion along the flies. She bit her lower lip, feeling her stomach flip flop nervously.
Still, Meg fell into the dance easily. She knew she could do this dance with her eyes closed from the amount of times her mother had made them practice it. Still, she kept her eyes wide open, trying to follow the shadows behind them on the screen. She could hear the audience murmuring about the slip ups the opera had been having that evening, and they only seemed to grow louder whenever a shadow could cross the backdrops.
She danced across the stage easily to Alessandro, who awaited her with the bright smile that of his character, the shepherd. But his smile faltered at the look in Meg's eyes, despite her own seemingly calm expression. He gave her an encouraging nod as they danced briefly together, before he sent her to dance across the stage in that otherworldly grace she possessed.
Nerves were coiling into the pit of Meg's stomach. She quickly looked up towards box five, noticing Raoul speaking to an older gentleman. Meg realized it was his brother, but didn't have much time to really notice as she danced. She tried to keep a smile on her painted lips, tried to remain calm and happy as she was meant to be. But something was happening, and she couldn't stop to get a good look as to what.
They were going to get their disaster beyond imagination.
The ballet girls danced in perfect sync with each other, as if they hadn't just rushed around backstage and had the Opera Ghost himself taunting the audience and La Carlotta only moments before. Meg waited for something to happen, but it seemed like nothing was actually going to happen. Perhaps the shadows were merely stagehands moving about. Perhaps it was just a lighting error. Meg just forced herself to relax and lost herself in the dance, slowly beginning to ignore the knot in her stomach.
As the girls all bunched together in center stage with Alessandro at the lead of them prancing around, he suddenly froze and lifted his hand skyward. Not many of the ballet girls noticed, but those that did notice the menacing creature standing above with Buquet began to flee the stage. Alessandro reached out and grabbed Meg's arm, pulling her out of the music and dance with that simple touch.
Raoul watched this all carefully, noticing how the man grabbing Meg seemed to see something above. He looked up, and went pale as he realized the stagehand he had apprehended the night before was being choked by a dark figure. He quickly looked down at Meg, who had stopped her dancing to look at the man who was pulling her away with a confused expression. The lights began to flicker again as the Phantom's maniacal laughter echoed around the theater yet again. The ballet girls had been bending to grab their flower wreaths, and Alessandro was still attempting to pull a confused Meg offstage so she wouldn't see anything with those innocent eyes of hers when it happened.
The disaster.
There was a sickening cracking sound amidst the Phantom's laughter, and the ballet girls looked up at the body of Joseph Buquet. The audience began shouting in surprise, and many jumped up in surprise. The managers stared in shock for a long moment, before calling out to the audience not to panic, not to move a muscle.
Raoul didn't hesitate as he quickly jumped up and hurried out of the box, despite the protests from his brother and the managers.
All that ran through his mind as he raced downstairs and into the theater was Meg.
Alessandro pulled Meg to the side of the stage, cupping her face in his hands to stop her from looking up. The sound of the stagehand's neck cracking had been enough for Meg. She could hear the ballet girls screaming as Alessandro carefully led her offstage. "Everything is okay, everything is okay." Alessandro stammered.
Meg shook his hands off of her, suddenly feeling very sick. She could not get the sound of Buquet's neck cracking out of her head. The shadows she had seen were no lighting errors. There had been a death at the opera.
Everyone was all in a flurry, and the managers were attempting to calm the audience down. Stagehands quickly rushed in to help, and the curtain closed as quickly as possible to shield the audience from the view of the dead man. The girls still squealed and screamed and cried as they rushed backstage backstage, and the loud sounds only made Meg feel worse. She tried slipping through the crowd of actors, tried to ignore the shouting of everyone around her.
"Meg! Meg!" Alessandro cried, trying to stop the blonde girl from leaving his sight. He was her friend, and he couldn't let her be alone. It wasn't safe!
Meg just kept moving, her small hands reaching forward. She didn't realized she had begun to cry, or that her head was slowly drooping as she blindly pushed through the throngs of people. She just wanted out. She wanted air. She wanted to scream. Oh, she had heard her mother's conversation with the Phantom! Perhaps she could have stopped this, could have done something to warn everyone! He didn't deserve to die, no matter how disgusting he might have been. He didn't deserve this!
Familiar warm hands suddenly grabbed Meg's waving hands. She quickly lifted her head, seeing Raoul through her blurry vision. "Meg! It's me, it's Raoul! Come, come with me!" He shouted as gently as possible. She nodded her head quickly, her shoulders drooping ever so slightly. Raoul kept a tight grasp on her hand before turning and leading her away.
Alessandro saw the young Vicomte pull Meg out of the throng of people. What he also saw was the warmth in his gaze, at the physical change in Meg's demeanor as he pulled her to safety. His heart sank, and he watched their retreating forms as they ran away. The Vicomte didn't deserve Meg, if those were his intentions. He would take a delicate flower and get what he wanted from her and then dump her. Alessandro wouldn't let that happen. He would save Meg before letting some aristocrat use her.
Christine had been in La Carlotta's dressing room when Buquet died. It was still as ornate and beautiful as it had been the night of Hannibal. Madame Giry had been silently lacing Christine into her costume, each elaborate piece needing to be tied a little tighter to fit around Christine's smaller frame. La Carlotta was a beautiful woman, but much more curvy than Christine's younger body. Madame Giry kept glancing at the clock, not wanting to upset the managers and be late with getting Christine out onstage.
"Mama Giry?" Christine whispered in a soft voice.
"Yes, dear?" Madame Giry looked up at Christine's reflection in the mirror, noticing how tired the poor girl seemed.
"Does...does Erik...does he...l-love me?" She stammered, never tearing her gaze away from the large mirror he had whisked her away in only a week and a few days before.
"I don't know, dear." Madame Giry murmured after a moment. "In his way, I suppose." The older woman sucked in a deep breath. "Do you have feelings for him?"
"I don't know...oh I don't know..." Christine said woefully. "He lied to me. And what a great lie it was! My Angel of Music is the Opera Ghost! My Angel I thought my Papa sent to me...is a man...and what a face..." Her voice began to shake, but Christine forced herself to keep it together. "Mama Giry, what am I supposed to do?"
Madame Giry tied the dress around the shaking girl before turning her around. She rested her fingers against Christine's cheek, giving her a weary smile. "I wish I had the answers for you, my dear." She sighed. "I know your dear Papa would never approve of this. But I also know he would have wanted you to be happy." Madame Giry paused. "You need the sunlight, Christine. You deserve to be happy and to shine."
"Erik is full of darkness...he is darkness incarnate." Christine closed her eyes slowly.
"Perhaps you are the light that will save him, my dear." Madame Giry managed the slightest of smiles. "Only if that is what you feel is right."
At that moment, a scream in the hall caught Madame Giry's attention. She quickly turned away from Christine and went to the door of the dressing room. The ballet girls were all gathered in the hall, shrieking and a few even sobbing. "What is wrong? Girls, calm yourselves, hush!" Madame Giry ordered as gently as possible.
"Oh Madame Giry! The Phantom, he killed Buquet!"
"The Phantom!"
"Buquet is dead!"
Christine had gone pale inside the dressing room, and she felt like she was going to be violently ill. Add murderer to the list of names for this Erik. A murderer. A murderer loved her!
"Christine, stay here, please." Madame Giry helped the poor brunette sit on the stool. "Everything will be alright. Stay here, don't go anywhere." The older woman quickly left the room and closed the door. She calmed the girls down before hurrying down the hall to find someone with answers.
The only one who actually could give her answers was the very murderer everyone was running from.
Meanwhile, Meg and Raoul had run far from the stage. Raoul had no idea where he was going, having not memorized the layout of the twisting theater yet. But they found themselves in the stable, where the air smelled like horses and fresh hay. A few stable boys looked up as Meg in her full costume and the Vicomte in his finery appeared out of nowhere.
Meg was still shaking like a leaf, and Raoul had yet to let go of her hand. He led her to a bench near an empty stall, and helped her to sit. He knew they needed to return. Madame Giry would be looking for Meg, and Philippe would be looking for Raoul. But Raoul would not leave Meg. Not now, and he was prepared to never leave her side.
"Meg..." Raoul whispered, turning towards her small frame. The heavy stage makeup she had been wearing had smeared, and he managed the smallest of smiles as he reached into his pocket and pulled out his handkerchief. She looked down at the offered fabric, her cheeks becoming red as she realized the mess she probably looked to him.
"I don't want to ruin it." Her voice was in such a soft tone that it nearly broke Raoul's heart.
"Oh Meg." He chuckled softly, before lifting the soft material to her cheek and gently brushing the tear stains away. She closed her eyes as he swept the material gently under her eyes, wiping away any smeared makeup. Meg could hardly believe how tender and gentle Raoul was being with her. When he was through, her dark eyes slowly opened and finally lifted to meet his shining blue pair.
As she stared at him, realization began to hit her. Her eyes slowly dropped to his cravat, and her tiny hand lifted to rest on her middle. Raoul noticed how pale Meg instantly became. "Meg..." He began, not wanting her to cry anymore. He decided it had been the worst thing to see when he found her blindly pushing through the throng of people.
"Oh Raoul...Buquet...I could have stopped it. Oh that madman killed him and I could have stopped it!" She began to cry again, and her head lowered into her hands.
"Meg...what are you talking about? Hush, it's alright." His arm slid behind her shaking shoulders, hoping he could give her some sort of comfort.
"It's my fault! I could have stopped it." She whimpered, slumping slightly beneath his touch.
"No, Meg, it wasn't your fault at all." Raoul had no idea what she was talking about. But the poor girl seemed so convinced that she had somehow caused this.
"I heard him threaten Buquet...the Phantom...he told my mother he would send a warning to the managers...they didn't know I heard them...but I did. And I could have done something!" Meg looked up at Raoul with a desperate look in her eyes.
"No, Meg...no." Raoul murmured as gently as he could. "It is not your fault." He said forcefully, needing her to know that. She couldn't blame herself for this crime. "It was the man's time, no matter how terrible it happened." He lifted his hands to her cheeks and brushed away the tears beneath her eyes. Her small hands lifted to curl around his arms, holding him in place in a weak gesture. She slowly nodded and took a deep breath before looking up at him.
"He loves her, you know." Meg whispered, her sobs subsiding.
"Who does?" He just wanted her to stop crying. He hated seeing her in pain.
"The Phantom. He loves Christine. That madman lied to her, told her he was her Angel of Music. Surely you remember those stories?" She murmured, her eyebrows furrowing together in that childish way he remembered.
"Yes, of course. Christine always fit the bill of Little Lotte. Her father had even told her the Angel of Music would come to her." Raoul paused, watching as Meg dropped her gaze away from Raoul, her fingers loosening around his sleeves. He brushed his thumb across her soft cheek, sighing quietly. "Then it is all true. The Opera Ghost, the Angel you spoke of the night of Christine's disappearance."
"He's all in one. Angel, Phantom, man." Meg whispered. "Murderer." Raoul's hands slipped from her face, and she instantly missed the warmth of his touch. His hand took hers in his gently, and he lifted her small hand to his lips.
"Everything will be alright, Meg. Nothing will harm you, or Christine." His blue eyes met hers, and Meg bit her plump lower lip out of usual, nervous habit. She slowly nodded, and looked down at their linked hands.
"How can you be so sure of that?" She whispered, her thumb smoothing over the back of his hand.
A laugh escaped Raoul, and Meg lifted her dark eyes to his to see his easy smile. "Because I'm here. Nothing can harm you if I'm here." He promised. Meg felt her stomach fill with butterflies and she couldn't help but smile slowly at him.
"How right you are. That's how it always has been, hasn't it?" She smirked, quirking her eyebrow slightly. Raoul just laughed again and nodded, bringing his other hand to rest upon their linked hands.
The wind was chilly as it blew through the stable, warning the pair that not only had the night's chill settled upon Paris, but winter was soon coming also. Meg shivered slightly, blushing as she realized she was still in her elaborate costume. The lace sleeves that hung low on her shoulders did nothing to protect her from the cool air. Raoul noticed this and stood up, releasing her hand and slipping out of his jacket. Meg blushed again, lowering her shy eyes to the layers of lace trim on her costume. When she looked up again he was bringing his jacket around her, making sure she had a grasp on it before sitting back down on the bench with her.
"Perhaps we should return. Mama will be wondering where I am." Meg whispered, though many thoughts still plagued her mind. The warmth of his coat and the distinct musky scent of it was awfully distracting though. Raoul was silent, his jaw clenching and unclenching as he considered what to say next. He didn't know what would happen if he took Meg back inside. He didn't know when the next time he would have a quiet moment alone with her to say anything. He needed to seize the moment while it was right in front of his face.
She began to rise, but he grabbed her hand quickly to keep her there. "Meg." He breathed her name like a prayer, and she slowly closed her eyes from the sound. "I still need an answer."
Meg felt her stomach flip at his soft murmur. "They'll worry about us..." She said nervously, slowly opening her eyes to look at his cravat. Anywhere but his eyes. If she looked into his eyes at that moment she was scared her words would leave her and she would melt.
"Meg...please." His hand came to her cheek and she let him lift her face. She hesitantly met his eyes, and her heart pounded wildly within her chest. Meg felt her heart swell with something unnameable from the look in his eyes. She nearly burst into tears from the warmth and adoration in his gaze. "I'm tired of this...this feeling inside of me that never seems to find relief." He hesitated, and his thumb gently moved across her cheek. "Not a day has gone by that I haven't thought of you. I never stopped hoping I'd see you again. You, Meg. As fond of Christine as I am, it was you who filled my mind. It's always been you."
"Raoul..." She whispered.
"Wait." He lifted his other hand to her face again, and she let him. "I need to know, if you feel the same, Meg. I...I feel as though we are bound together forever. We are linked to each other." He brushed his thumb across her cheek. "Please don't leave me again, Meg. Please tell me what you feel for me is the same. Please tell me I am not imagining your feelings." Raoul took a deep breath. "I fear that if the bond between us were to break...I could not be mended."
"Nor I." She felt hot tears fill her eyes again, and she let out a little giggle. "I do...I do feel the same, Raoul." Raoul finally smiled, glad Meg wasn't crying from fear or pain any longer. She was happy. He was making her happy. As he knew it should be.
"I love you, Marguerite Giry." Raoul said truthfully, without hesitation.
Meg sighed and closed her eyes. Raoul brought her close, their foreheads touching. "Say it again. This time, without my full name." She whispered teasingly, her stomach filled with nervous butterflies from how close they were. She could feel his warm breath on her lips, nearly felt his lips brush hers. Never had she wanted a kiss so badly before.
"I love you." He laughed softly, his nose brushing hers as he came closer.
"And...and I love you, Raoul. I think I always have." Before she could pull away to grin her bright dimpled grin at him, his hand had curled around the back of her neck and was pulling her closer. His lips had barely brushed hers before their noses bumped together, causing them to pull away and laugh together.
Raoul tilted his head slightly before leaning in and capturing Meg's lips with his own. Shocks ran through him as he marveled at the feel and taste of her lips. She was so soft, and so wonderfully sweet. Raoul let his fingertips brush across her swanlike neck as he kissed her slowly at first, wanting to be sure to be gentle and calm. He didn't want to scare her with passionate, heavy kisses.
Meg nearly fainted away when Raoul kissed her. Her heart swelled and jumped for joy within her chest. Hope built up inside of her, and she began to let herself believe they could be together. They could. They really could. Meg smiled against his lips and kissed him a little harder, her hands sliding up over his shoulders. Raoul laughed against her, not ever wanting to pull away from the perfection that was her lips. But they had to, to do a little something called breathing. Both laughed happily though, cheeks flushed from the excitement and the chill of the night air. Between giggles, Meg peppered Raoul's lips with soft kisses, which he gladly took.
She pulled away with a little laugh, and stared into the eyes of the man she had always loved. Seeing him again after all these years had awakened the love she had always had for him. Her small hand moved from his shoulder to rest against his chest, where his heart pounded beneath his clothing. She gasped at the feeling of the steady beat. It was a beautiful feeling that caused her to laugh again. "I do want you, Raoul. I've never stopped...missing you, wanting to be with you." She admitted shyly, her cheeks turning red as she looked down at her hand on his chest.
"Sweet Meg, you needn't be shy!" He laughed, brushing a stray golden curl behind her ear.
"I cannot help it!" She blushed, a soft giggle escaping her. Her laughter faded as she considered the reality of this. Yes, Raoul wanted her just as much as she wanted him. They had known it as children that they would eventually find each other, and finally be together. But Meg knew the reality of it all.
"You have grown sad. What is it, Meg?" He murmured, his hand covering hers as he watched her happy expression fall away.
"If we were to be together...I can only imagine what your family...what everyone would think. It can't be right for a Vicomte to be with a ballerina." She said sadly.
Raoul touched her face, making her meet his eyes yet again. "Meg, I love you. I've loved you since I was fourteen, soaked to the skin just to save your shawl for you. I won't ever stop. I refuse to marry someone my father has handpicked for me, who I will not feel a thing for. But for you, my sweet Meg, I would gladly risk it all for. I would rather have my family disown me and leave me penniless if it meant having you by my side for the rest of eternity."
"I cannot ask you to do that, Raoul." Meg whispered sadly.
Raoul just smiled that boyish smile of his before stealing another kiss from her. As he pulled away, he rested his forehead against hers again. "You're not. It's my choice. I refuse to continue on without you in my life. If I could, I'd take you right this moment and marry you, if it meant never parting with you."
"And I would gladly accept in a heartbeat, but Raoul..." She blushed, shaking her head as she pulled her head back.
"I mean it, Meg. I don't want to go through life without you at my side. Please say you feel the same." He gave her fingers a squeeze.
"I do, Raoul." She smiled softly. "I tried not to get my hopes up. I knew we never could be friends. I knew too many people would frown on even that. That's why I never wrote you. I didn't want to cause trouble." Meg bit her lower lip. "I didn't think our friendship would be possible, and I couldn't let myself ever hope for anything more in the future."
"You needn't worry about anyone else, Meg. I'm not going to let anyone stand in the way of this. I love you. I've loved you for all these years and I promise you I don't intend to ever stop." He met her dark gaze, the moonlight coming in through one of the windows making her dark eyes appearing so much darker and larger. "All that matters is if you're happy, if you want to be with me. Are you willing to take this risk with me?"
She smiled, nodding her head slowly.
"Then that's that." He grinned at her, before pulling her in for another kiss. Her hand slowly lifted from his to touch his cheek, to feel over his smooth skin. A little shiver ran through her as her fingertips brushed slightly over his hair. It was silky and soft, and she fought the urge to rake her fingers through it and deepen the kiss. She couldn't help it. After what he had said, she finally wasn't scared anymore. She also would give everything up, if it meant living a life with Raoul. She wanted to lose herself in his lips, to hold him close and never have to let him go. But thankfully he pulled away before her mind became too foggy. Meg blushed a little and bit her lower lip.
"There's still so much I want to learn. I want to know everything about you, Meg." Raoul murmured, his voice breathless.
"Everything?" She chuckled dryly. "Are you so sure about that?"
"Everything." He grinned, unable to help but kiss her once more.
"I want to know everything about you also, Raoul. So many years have passed and so much has happened." She whispered, her lips tingling from his sweet kisses.
"We have the rest of our lives to learn from each other." He promised.
Meg grinned a bright dimpled smile at him and nodded happily. He couldn't help but pull her close and kiss her again. He wished he could kiss her forever, to keep her with him always. It frightened him to know that they would eventually have to leave the stable and go back to the real world. Meg was right to fear his world, the people in his circles. He knew they would not all be kind to her. He knew they would look down upon her and upon him for choosing her. But Raoul was willing to risk it. He would risk it all just to keep her at his side. He would keep her safe from the cruelty his world could bestow on her. He would not let her light be snuffed out by anyone. He would take care of her, and make her happy.
And oh, how she would make him happy! Raoul knew it already.
He reluctantly pulled away from her lips, and a soft laugh escaped him when her lips still yearned for more. She stole another kiss from him, which elicited more laughter from both of them. "I wish we could stay here all night." She laughed.
"I think you would freeze to death." Raoul murmured, pulling his coat around her small frame tightly.
"Nonsense. I have your coat, and not to mention you." She grinned teasingly, and he couldn't help but kiss her on the nose.
"This is true!" He chuckled, adoring the soft laughter that escaped her.
"But I must go, Raoul. They will wonder where I am. Mother will worry about me." Meg sighed, scrunching her nose up unhappily. She forced herself to stand up, to pull herself from his tempting grasp.
Raoul smiled, watching her as she adjusted the small wreath of flowers atop her blonde curls which had been expertly pinned up and out of her face. She glanced at him and giggled as she pulled his coat off of her and held it out to him. Raoul stood and took it and put it back on. There was the slightest scent of flowers, and something else he couldn't name that distracted him. He smiled and looked back to Meg, who was smoothing her fingers over the layers of lace and designs on her costume.
"Come, I do not wish to keep you in this weather dressed like this any longer." He murmured, reaching to take her hand. Before he could slip it through his arm, she threw her arms around him and hugged him close. He didn't hesitate to hold her as close as her costume would allow him to. She clutched him tightly, her head resting on his chest. He smiled and touched the back of her head, keeping her snugly against him. They took this moment to just hold each other, to revel in the fact that they could be together now, that nothing would stop them.
"I love you." She whispered.
"And I love you." He kissed her head, and she pulled back to grin at him. "May I have the honor of escorting you to dinner tonight?" He asked politely.
"I suppose I can be persuaded." Meg giggled teasingly.
Meanwhile, Christine had not left her dressing room. From what she had heard from the ballet girls, the Phantom had killed Buquet.
Erik had killed a man.
It didn't seem real. Her Angel of Music, the one she had always longed for, had killed a man.
"You are no Angel, Erik. Not at all." She whispered under her breath, her hands shaking.
As she closed her sky blue eyes, she remembered the night he had whisked her away, when she had learned the truth. His music, his voice, his sad, pleading eyes had seemed to work their way into her soul. She was linked to him. And yet, he had lied to her all these years. Christine very much wished to run away, to leave everything behind and be a whole new person. Not Christine Daae' or Little Lotte with her Angel of Music. Someone else.
She nearly had half a mind to run back to the apartment, pack her things and run away.
But her eyes flew to the large mirror at the other end of the room, where her dark angel had whisked her away only days before. She stood, lifting the heavy skirts of her costume to stare at herself in the mirror. Her chocolate curls had been pinned up on top of her head in preparation for the wig that would need to be worn. She didn't look completely like herself at that moment, but it wasn't what she was looking for.
No, Christine was actually attempting to look through the glass.
Her dainty fingers lifted and brushed along the cold mirror. "I cannot ever leave you, Erik. And you will never leave me." She whispered sadly. "Every fiber of my being is screaming at me to leave you. I want to leave you. I want to run away. I...I need the sunlight...I need warmth and peace. Your cold darkness is...it's so frightening...I don't want it." She closed her eyes and rested her head against the mirror. "But your hold on me is great. I hate you for it. Oh, Erik. How I wish I could be free of you." Christine turned away from the mirror, her arms crossed over her chest. "And yet..." Her perfectly arched eyebrows lifted slightly, and she let out a shaky little laugh.
Christine could not form the words that rested on her heart. She felt like her throat was suddenly stuffed with cotton. And what if Madame Giry walked in to hear her whispering her heart's deepest urges? Or worse, someone else. Something had changed the air in the room. She could sense it instantly, like she could when she was a child.
"Yet what, Christine?" A voice rumbled behind her.
She whirled around, tears suddenly in her blue gaze. "How dare you!" She gasped, her hands curling into fists at her sides. "How dare you come in here unannounced, as if you were a rogue!"
"I have never been a gentleman, Christine. Obviously you can see that has never been possible for me by now." He kept his distance, knowing that even if she had not known Buquet was dead by his hands, she still did not want him there.
"What do you want?" She asked, keeping the tears at bay and her voice even.
His gloved hands reached towards her, but she backed away instantly, her breath catching in her throat. "I...I don't..." He stammered, losing the very air of confidence he had held as the Opera Ghost.
"Why did you do it? Why did you kill an innocent man?" She asked shakily.
"My dear Christine, he was no innocent."
"He did not deserve to die! And at your hands, nonetheless! You're a murderer, you've killed a man!" Christine exclaimed. "How could you?"
"I am not an angel, Christine. I never have been."
"But you were! You were my angel. A least, you made me believe you were. And oh, how I believed you were!" Suddenly she crossed the room, and her small fists beat into his chest. He allowed her, though after a moment he grasped her thin wrists in his tight grasp. Even through his gloves, she could feel the chill of his fingertips. "Why...oh why did you let me believe you were my Angel of Music? Are you happy with the hold you now have over me?"
Erik remained silent, unsure of how to even answer the poor girl. He could feel her tremble beneath his grasp, feel her breath through his gloves as she let out ragged sobs. "Christine...forgive me. I only wanted...I only ever wanted you. I wanted to take care of you, to teach you, to mold that instrument you possess to show the world what beauty is! The kind of beauty I shall never have."
"That's all I was? A pretty little thing who you could manipulate and mold into whatever you wanted just for your benefit? It would be you who would receive the praise of my voice. You made my father's story into a twisted tale!" Christine whimpered.
"No, no, my dear Christine, no!" He stammered. "I never meant...I never...I only wanted you to love me. You were a beacon of light in my darkness. You were warm, you were kind, you were everything I could never have in this life. You were everything the world has never allowed me to have. All because of this...this face. All because I am a monster."
Christine turned away from him, her fingers lifting to her lips. She would never be free from him. He loved her, and she was scared her own heart was giving in to the darkness she never wanted. The darkness she always tried to turn away from. Slowly, she turned and looked up at his tall form, at his pleading golden eyes. His gloved hands reached towards her, and like a magnet she stepped forward. He did not touch her, though his hand hovered above her cheek. He quickly dropped his hand back to his side, shaking his head slowly.
"Forgive me, Christine. Please, forgive me. I never meant to let it go on as I had. I should have never done what I did." Erik took a deep breath.
"Does that include killing Buquet?" Christine asked quietly.
The corners of his lips curled upwards, and Christine shivered. "It was the only action I have done thus far that wasn't for your benefit, but for my own. The old man has told many a tale about me, many lies. He knew too much, and he overstepped his boundaries in my theater too often."
"Meg has told her fair share of stories too. And yet I assume she's still alive." Christine knew Erik would never harm Meg. But it still made his excuse stupid. If he killed Buquet for telling stories, shouldn't he have killed Meg too? Shouldn't he have really killed all the ballet girls?
"You know I would never harm her. I would never bring that kind of sadness upon you or Madame Giry. Meg has great talent. I have promised Giry she would be successful, and I am making it so she will be. The girl has merely spread ghost stories around. She has made the Opera Ghost real." Erik chuckled. "Buquet was a lecherous creature, and I was tired of him."
"Was it so easy for you?" Christine asked shakily, unsure if she would like the answer. Erik hesitated, and looked away, unable to meet Christine's blue stare. His avoidance of her answered her question. So this was not his first kill. He had killed before. "I'm not going to pretend to understand, E-Erik. Because I don't." She whispered, moving away from him to lower herself on the stool in front of her vanity.
"I would never want you to understand this, Christine." Erik sighed.
Christine fingered the rose he had left for her the night of Hannibal, where it still rested from that fateful night. It was a shock La Carlotta had left it there when she had taken the dressing room back. Perhaps the diva thought it was just one from her many admirers. Nonetheless, Christine was glad it was still there. "So what happens now?" She whispered.
"I could continue to teach you, if you'd like. I could take you away from the opera house, I could train you still." Erik suggested.
"Oh yes, and where would we go? I suppose the Opera Ghost has a winter retreat in a cave somewhere?" Christine sighed. When she looked up at him, she noticed the wounded expression in his eyes. "You must forgive me, please. I only meant..."
"I understand what you think of me, Christine. I'm a monster, I'm not capable of being anywhere else but in darkness." He turned away towards the mirror, and Christine jumped to her feet. She hurried towards him and grabbed his arm in a gesture that surprised both of them. She curled her fingers in his black coat, taking in a deep breath.
"Please, you know that is not what I mean." Christine held onto his arm tighter. "You may not be an angel, but you know me. You have known me since I was a girl. You know I do not...I do not think of you as a monster."
Erik turned slowly and studied the brunette, the determined look in her big blue eyes. "Then why...why did you remove my mask? Why did you recoil from me...as though I were a monster? I never...I never thought you would look at me as...as they did." His hand lifted to his mask, and Christine fought against the tears that burned in her eyes.
"Forgive me for that. I was frightened by your anger. I had woken from a dream, to find you. I always thought you hid yourself from me because you were too beautiful for this world. I did not...I never thought..." Christine sucked in a deep breath, her other hand coming to touch his mask. He tensed up, but she merely brushed her fingertips along the cool leather. He touched her hand, actually frightened that she would tear the mask off again. That she would cry and whimper in terror like she had before. Erik could not take the horror in her eyes again. He could not live through that. "Though your face...is truly terrible...perhaps I can see past it."
"How?" He asked quietly.
"I'm not sure. But maybe I can learn."
"You would be willing to do that?"
"If you'd let me." Christine managed the softest of smiles. "I'm not going to lie to you, Erik. The darkness is not for me. I cannot go into the darkness again. I cannot. I wanted to run away only moments ago. I had half a mind to run back to the apartment and jump a boat or a train anywhere but here. But even if I left, even if I went away from this place and you...you would never truly leave me. You'd always be there..." Her voice dropped. "Singing songs in my head." She moved her gaze to her fingers on his mask.
"I wish I could give you a normal life." Erik sighed. "I wish I was a normal man, with a normal face, that could have wooed you like a gentleman. Not because of a lie." Erik whispered.
"There's still time for that. Let us let the music come first." She smiled softly, her fingertips still brushing along his mask. "Perhaps there is a normal man inside of you, beneath all the secrets."
"I do hope you're right, Christine." Erik murmured, slowly taking her hand away from his mask. Curious little girl was making him nervous.
"No more lies." She lifted her eyebrows, indicating that she meant business.
"Whatever you wish." The slightest of smiles quirked his lips upwards. Perhaps one day she would learn to love him. Perhaps she could be the sunlight in his dark world.
The opera was back on in full swing when Raoul returned Meg backstage. Madame Giry noticed the bright smiles on both of their faces when she came upon them in the hallway. She also caught them just as the Vicomte kissed her daughter. Madame Giry would have snapped at them, but Meg's joyous laughter and the Vicomte's warm smile was too beautiful to disturb. It was good for Meg to be so happy. Madame Giry just hoped her daughter knew what she was risking, being with the Vicomte. She would not ruin things for her daughter, though. The girl was smart, and had a good head on her shoulders. She knew the truth of the world he lived in. The girl had always reminded her mother of that anytime the older woman would encourage the girls to write to the young Vicomte.
Meg felt a familiar stare in her direction and quickly looked over and noticed her mother watching. She laughed and blushed a deep shade of red before pressing her hands into Raoul's arms, encouraging him to take his seat. She would see him after the opera. Meg had a job to do. He let go of her, but not before stealing another quick kiss from her. Meg just laughed again before she hurried over to her mother, practically glowing as her mother hugged her daughter close.
"I'm glad you're safe." Madame Giry chuckled.
"More than safe." Meg giggled, pulling back to give her mother an excited smile. Madame Giry just smiled knowingly, before gesturing to the stage.
"Elena filled in for you as the maid. I do hope you're ready to dance in act three again." Madame Giry adjusted her daughter's wreath, slipping a loose curl behind her ear.
"I'm ready." Meg smiled.
Madame Giry wrapped an arm around her daughter's shoulders as they watched the rest of the opera. Christine was playing the Countess, and she shone. Her voice rang out clearly, in that happy bouncy way the opera required. The audience seemed at ease now that things had calmed down. The opera continued on without any other troubles. Meg got to complete her leading dance in the ballet of Act 3, and without any flaw at all. She could tell that some of the other girls were a little antsy and nervous. Hopefully it wasn't too obvious to everyone else.
Afterwards, the entire cast came out for their bows. Christine had a huge smile on her face, her bows low and full of gratitude. Her bright blue eyes scanned the ceiling, and she hoped Erik approved. The audience seemed to have forgotten all about the death of Buquet and the Opera Ghost's antics and roared with applause.
Meg hurried to Christine's dressing room, hoping to change with her best friend and speak to her before she went to dinner with Raoul. When she got there, her mother was exiting the room. As Meg got closer, she realized the expression on her mother's face was unreadable, as usual.
But was that fear in her emerald eyes?
"Mama, what's wrong?" Meg asked softly, furrowing her eyebrows.
Madame Giry stared at her little daughter, remembering the laughter and the smiles that had been on her face only an hour before. She didn't want to worry her about the things Christine was planning on doing. Meg would be shocked.
"Nothing, my dear. Christine just needs some time alone to change." The older woman smiled at Meg. "I do suppose your Vicomte is whisking you away for dinner, yes?"
Meg blushed, nodding slowly. "Well...yes. How did you-"
"Mother's intuition. I was young once too, you know. You needn't worry about Christine. I will take her home and the Vicomte can bring you home as soon as you finish your meal."
"Tell her to wait up for me, so we can speak. Please?" Meg asked hopefully.
Madame Giry sighed, nodding slowly. "Of course, Meg. Come now, it's time to get you changed out of this costume."
Madame Giry found a dress for Meg to wear that was much nicer than the one she had brought for the short walk home. It was a deep shade of green with intricate little lace designs and tiny flowers sewn into the fabric. It was soft and warm and beautiful. After undoing her golden curls, Madame Giry pinned a few stray pieces out of Meg's face with little clips in the shapes of flowers.
The older woman didn't quite know how she felt about her daughter having a suitor. Of course it would happen. Meg was beautiful and getting older. Of course the girl had boys after her, but nothing quite as genuine as this. Or at least so it seemed. Madame Giry certainly hoped the young Vicomte had proper intentions towards her daughter. She just wanted to know her daughter would be taken care of, and most importantly, happy. If Meg ever decided to leave the ballet to pursue a life with Raoul, Madame Giry would allow it. She always wanted so much more for her daughter than what she could give her, but of course, dear Meg had never complained. Nor did Christine.
Raoul hurried as fast as he could to Meg. Philippe had been rather uneasy about the rest of the evening, especially when his younger brother had run out of the box just before the stagehand had died. Something about the entire situation seemed odd to Philippe. Had the stagehand's death really been an accident? Or did it have to do with the 'Phantom' character everyone had been whispering about?
This was why Philippe didn't like the theater. Too much drama.
When Raoul returned, he had been so very happy and excited about something. Dinner with his little ballet girl, it seemed. Philippe would allow him his fun for now. But the next morning, he would have to give his brother a talk. He knew it would be much kinder than their father could give. But it needed to be done before it was too late.
Raoul escorted Meg to dinner to one of his favorite restaurants near the Seine river. It was beautiful and much nicer than anywhere Meg had ever been. But neither seemed to notice the looks and whispers they received when they walked in. They had each other, and that was what mattered. They were so distracted by each other, they didn't notice anyone else at all.
They spent dinner laughing and learning about each other. They spoke of the time they had been apart, tuning out everything else around them and focusing on each other. Meg didn't have a chance to be nervous, and the conversation never lagged. Raoul made her feel comfortable, and at ease. He made everything seem so much easier, like nothing could ever be wrong. Perhaps he was right. Perhaps they could just be happy with each other and completely ignore everyone else. It so far seemed to work just fine.
On the carriage ride home, Meg had her head resting on Raoul's shoulder, her small hand looped through his arm. Raoul liked how comfortable she was. She wasn't nervous or jumpy like she had been when they had first seen each other again. He liked how easily she leaned against him, how her little fingers moved over his arm in slow motions.
He had told his driver to take a longer drive to her apartment, just so he could have more time with her. They didn't even need to talk, like they were now. He adored her company. He simply adored her. Raoul didn't want to say goodbye, even if only for the night. Things just seemed so easy between them. Everything felt so natural, like this was exactly where they were meant to be.
Eventually the carriage came to a stop outside the boarding house. Raoul reluctantly helped Meg out, and the two laughed when they realized a light dusting of snow was beginning to fall. Raoul watched Meg's face instantly brighten, the way she laughed in happiness and squeezed his gloved hand.
"Isn't it lovely?" She giggled, tilting her head back to stare up at the white flakes. Raoul grinned, watching her in adoration as she happily watched the snow fall. Little perfect snowflakes began to cling to her golden curls, and as happy as she seemed out there, he could see how she clutched her cloak around her small frame tightly with her free hand. He swore he could even hear her teeth chattering.
Raoul gathered Meg into his arms, gently moving his hands over her back to help keep her warm. She instantly melted against him, a soft sigh tickling his neck. He kissed her head and closed his eyes, memorizing the way she felt all wrapped up in his arms.
So this was love. So this was happiness. It didn't seem real. It seemed like a dream they would wake up from.
Meg lifted her head and Raoul looked down at her with a sweet smile. Using her hands on his arms as leverage, she rose up easily onto her tiptoes and kissed him. He kept a good hold on her, curling her into him as he leaned down slightly so she wouldn't have to balance too badly.
Meg decided kissing him would never grow old. She would never tire of the sweet taste of his mouth, the warm, soft feeling of his lips. She would never tire of the explosion of butterflies within her stomach at each simple movement their lips made. She couldn't believe the night they had had. She couldn't believe all of this was real, that he had waited for her, that he loved her! Her fingers tightened on his arms at the thought.
Raoul also realized each kiss from Meg seemed brand new. He decided he was a drowning man, and only her sweet lips could ever give him the breath of life that would save him. Meg didn't realize it, but she had saved him in many more ways than he had ever saved her. She saved him from a miserable life without love, without sunlight in his life. He had been saved from the misery of wondering where she was, what she was doing, if she was happy with someone else. Raoul kissed her a little harder at the thought. He never liked wondering those things in the past years, and now he didn't want to. Not when it wasn't necessary any longer. She was there, she was willingly there in his arms, and she loved him.
Meg smiled as she pulled away, their noses brushing together in a lazy motion. "I've had a wonderful time tonight, Raoul." She whispered, lifting one hand to brush over his soft hair. A soft giggle escaped her as she felt little snowflakes melt in his silky hair beneath her touch.
"It's all been a dream come true." Raoul whispered, deciding her fingers in his hair was the most perfect thing in the world. "I fear letting you go, and waking from this dream to find it not real at all."
Without any warning, Meg dropped her hand from his hair and pinched the skin of his wrist. He lifted his head in surprise, and she grinned at him. "Did you feel that?" When he nodded, she leaned up and kissed him again. As she pulled away, Meg brushed her fingers over the area she had pinched. "It's no dream, my dear Raoul. I promise."
Raoul laughed and wrapped his arms around her waist. He picked her up off the ground and spun her around, and the two giggled and smiled happily. When he set her back on her feet, he gave her another kiss to her cold lips. Raoul pulled away slowly, and pulled the hood of her cloak over her curls. "You must get inside now, my sweet Meg. Now that I've finally found you, I don't want you to become an icicle." He murmured teasingly.
Meg smiled and nodded, her hands sliding down his arms. They reluctantly released each other after sharing one last kiss. "Goodnight, my dear Raoul."
"Goodnight, my sweet Meg. I love you." Raoul grinned, and kissed her forehead before she turned away and headed towards the door. Raoul watched her walk up the steps, and when she turned to smile at him, he blew her another kiss. Meg grinned and blew him one back before slipping inside.
Raoul sighed dreamily, unable to believe the night he had just had. He turned towards his carriage and climbed up inside, but not before glancing back at the old house. A light flickered on in one of the windows, and he smiled when Meg appeared in the window. She opened it and leaned out, waving her small hand wildly in the air. "I love you too!" She called out before closing the window with a giggle and adjusting the curtains.
Raoul grinned and climbed into his carriage, feeling like his heart could burst. The entire ride home, he thought over the entire evening, remembering little things Meg had said or done that had made him want to curl her up in his arms and keep her with him forever.
When he got home, he realized he was humming, and the smile had not left his face since he had dropped Meg at home. Raoul headed inside quietly, knowing his family must have all gone to bed. As he left his coat, gloves and scarf with a housemaid and headed upstairs, he passed his father's study. The Comte was inside, a glass of whiskey beside a stack of papers he was sorting. Before Raoul could sneak past him to his bedroom down the hall, his father shot his head up.
"Raoul, come sit down. We need to talk."