Charles Bisset's review eclipsed his praise of Meg in David Copperfield, hailing her Belle as bringing a much needed jolt of life to the ballet.
"Mlle. Giry turns on its head the role of the beautiful damsel. She brings not only fire and liveliness to her characterization, but a unique level-headedness that keeps Belle grounded. One leaves the performance with the impression that Belle is not only the sanest person in the story, but the tale's true hero. Belle might not tote a sword and shield, but her spark, common sense, and her compassion save the day more than any fumbling suitor could."
Other papers reached the same conclusion, praising not only Meg's acting but her grace and dance form.
Overnight, the heretofore popular chorus dancer became a sensation.
Erik saw the articles and headlines, and vaguely felt an odd sort of pride, but this was trumped by his growing anxiety.
She had met the Count. What now?
This he and her mother discussed in the Giry kitchen, Meg gone to collect the papers. Erik was so distracted he'd not even cared to bring his mask, and instead tried obscuring himself in the relative darkness of the room.
Madame Giry looked on the surface as stoic as ever, but Erik could see the protective lioness in her stance and in the light burning in her black eyes. "I do not trust the secret police here anymore than I did in Naser's court, Erik."
"That goes without saying, Anahid."
Her gaze was unchanging. "Any thoughts?"
Erik felt surprisingly panicked at the question. She asked as though Meg's fate was in his hands as well as hers.
Did Anahid…suspect something?
But what was there to suspect? Erik was fond of the girl, he'd admit. Her performance was so splendid he momentarily got carried away and gave her a rose. It was merely a tribute to a fabulous artist.
Why should he care what the fabulous artist does offstage?
Yet the idea of the Count near her…near her pert smile, her earnest large eyes, the man's eyes raking over her form….
Erik fought the nausea engulfing him.
Yes, he was concerned about her, but he insisted to himself that it was the concern a distant uncle feels for his rambunctious niece, or –
"Erik?" Anahid was still waiting for an answer.
Erik grew irritable. "I don't know! How should I? You're the girl's mother, after all. What are your thoughts?"
Anahid drew in a shallow breath and thought for a moment. "All either of us can do is be vigilant. Meg says she can extricate herself from this without compromising her virtue, and I want to trust her. In fact, I do trust her. Again, what I don't trust is the police force. No, not even Darius. They will go to any lengths to capture their man, regardless of the consequences to Meg. So, you and I must watch to make sure they don't hurt her."
As Anahid spoke, Erik's anxiety increased. Just the concern of the distant uncle, just the concern of the distant uncle….
Meg ran into the room, out of breath. She had in her arms various papers.
Her face was alight with joy.
"Have…have you read this? Charles Bisset! Duval Derroux! They all…they all like me!" Her dazzling smile seemed to cast a sunbeam all over the room.
Even Madame Giry could not help her small smile of pride. "Yes, my dear. I saw. I am not surprised, my love."
Meg flushed, happy tears in her eyes. "It's not really for me that I care so much. Well, that's a lie, I do care. But it's mostly for Monsieur Robard! I haven't disappointed him!"
So saying she rushed to her mother and threw her arms around her neck, kissing her on the cheek, laughing joyously. She didn't seem to mind that the papers had fallen out of her grasp, scattered all over the floor.
Then it happened. Before Erik could react or move, Meg flung her arms thoughtlessly around his neck and then –
She kissed him on his deformed cheek.
Sweetly, thoughtlessly, casually.
She kissed the monster's cheek.
Such a whirl Meg was in that she was out the door again having recollected the papers, spilling out of her arms. She called over her shoulder. "I need to show these to Cecile! There's a wonderful blurb about her in here as well! Let's see if she can tear herself away from Michel for a few minutes." She giggled and closed the door behind her.
Madame Giry stared sharply at Erik.
The Phantom was breathing heavily, staring with horror ahead of him, into nothing.
Oh God, Meg, what have you done to the man?
Later in his lair, Erik sat cradling his arms on his throne. He was shaken in a far different way than when Christine kissed him so many months ago.
Meg…Meg kissed him as if it were nothing…as if his face were like any other.
Christine, his dear blessed Christine, had needed courage from God to kiss him.
Meg kissed him as she would anyone.
As if he were anyone.
But no, more than that: she kissed him as if he were someone she was truly, deeply fond of, and kissed all the time.
It took Erik a long moment to identify the warm buzzing inside his chest.
Happiness. Hope.
He was terrified.
What…what did this mean? Who was this girl? Who was this girl to kiss him gaily, to smile at him radiantly? To stand by him, take care of him, take charge and become a spy? To dance like an ethereal sprite with a spine of goodness and sanity?
Erik clutched his chest as he came close to the conclusion that….
No, no, it was impossible, he wouldn't let himself, Christine, Christine –
Meg's beautiful bee-stung lips pressed sweetly against his malformed cheek –
No. He could no longer deny it.
He choked on a sob as he faced the unavoidable realization.
He was attracted to Meg. He cared for her. Cared for her far more than a distant uncle does his rambunctious neice.
He groaned as he ran his hand over his face and through his scant hair.
Damn him, damn him, DAMN HIM.
Damn her.
Yes, with this realization came a storm of fury, directed at the dancing brat.
How dare she do this to him?
How dare she so casually and blithely ruin his life all over again?
How dare she make him betray Christine, his good angel, his saint?
Christine and Meg, Meg and Christine. One was his soul; spiritual and angelic, so gentle and misty.
The other was his burning, beating heart, life and brightness and agonizing lust and yearning.
Heaven versus Earth.
How could he, Erik, prefer Earth over Heaven?
No, no, this was a passing whim, that's all, a weak middle aged man's fancy….
She kissed him as though he looked like anybody.
No one heard his strangled cry into the darkness.
A/N: Not gonna lie, Erik's having a bit of a "Hellfire" moment from Hunchback of Notre Dame here. He's Frollo, Meg's Esmeralda, and Christine's Maria, lol. Not that he's planning to burn Meg at the stake, don't worry. :P
(Also, chapters will get longer soon, don't fret.)