Meg Giry finished brushing her hair, before pulling on her robe, excited for bed. Even though she loved dancing and wouldn't trade it for anything in the world, performing was exhausting. She closed her dressing room door and began walking towards her room.

Suddenly a door opened and Meg ran into a man. "Oof!" she cried. Her eyes grew wide, and she quickly backed away as she realized who he was. "Monsieur Barineau, I am so incredibly sorry!"

"It's quite alright," the patron replied distractedly as he glanced in the direction he had come from. Meg followed her gaze and realized the prima donna's dressing room was that way. She had been suspecting there was something going on between them for a few weeks now, but she had no proof other than his wife hadn't been at the opera in weeks.

"Excuse me Monsieur," Meg said with a quick curtsy, anxious to call it a night, but no sooner than she had stepped around him, the patron grabbed her arm.

"Wait a moment." His eyes traced her rather scantily clad body before finally glancing at her face, making Meg extremely uncomfortable. "You're Madame Giry's daughter, aren't you? The prima ballerina?"

"Yes Monsieur," she replied, with another curtsy. "That's me."

"Your performance tonight was lovely," he said, kissing the back of her hand. "As are you."

"Thank you, you're too kind." Meg pulled away and took a step back. This didn't feel right at all. Not to mention it wasn't proper for her to be in this kind of state with a man, no matter who he was. "Now if you'll excuse me, I really must be going."

He whirled back around so that she was facing him again. "The things I could do for you Miss Giry," Gaston purred, pinning her against the wall. "I could make you a star. All I need is a little something from you in return."

Meg shoved him backwards as he leaned in to kiss her. "No!" she cried. "Leave me alone!" She broke free and began to run away.

"You'll regret this!" Gaston called after her. "I can build your career Miss Giry, but I can also take it away! Yours or even your mother's!"

She couldn't stop running until she reached her own room. Meg locked the door behind her, threw herself on the bed, and began to sob. She wasn't going to be his personal whore like Violet, but at the same time, Meg was terrified that she had just doomed her family. All she could do was pray his threats were idle.

Mia watched the Phantom with fascination. He had unbandaged one of her wrists and was now carefully using a sterilized knife to remove her stiches. There was just something about his gaze, his furrowed brow, his intensely focus eyes that captivated her. "Why did you wait until now to do this?" she wondered aloud.

"I had to make sure there was no risk of you reopening the cuts," he answered, not looking up from her wrist. "Normally stiches only need a week or two, but I won't have you bleeding out everywhere again."

That sparked Mia's interest. "And why is that?" she asked, keeping her voice even. If he was just going to kill her, why was he helping her? Maybe he was going to let her go after all.

"The blood would stain the sheets," the Phantom replied. Mia gave him a dirty look, tired of his sarcasm, but said no more. She knew that under his tough exterior was nothing more than a hurting man that she needed to unlock. There had been a time or two she had managed to reach that man, to reach Erik, few times, for a few moments, but Mia had a feeling that releasing Erik for good was the key to receiving her own freedom.

"How did you learn to do this?" Mia had quickly learned that the best way to draw Erik out was to get him talking about himself. "I wouldn't have the foggiest clue."

"Antoinette taught me."

"Who's Antoinette?"

"The girl who brought me here after I escaped the gypsy camp."

Mia could tell she was about to head into potentially dangerous territory, but she needed to reach the inner Erik. The Phantom part of his personality was nothing but a front, and so hadn't suffered as a child, which meant it was the best shot Mia had to reach Erik, as long as she tread carefully. "How did you escape?"

He glanced up, meeting her eyes for a brief moment before returning to his work. "That's not story you want to hear." The Phantom finished rebandaging her wrist and held out his hand. "Now the other one."

She obeying, giving him her hand. Mia remained quiet for a moment, lost in thought. Yes, she was trying to reach Erik, but there was something about the man that intrigued her. The air of mystery that constantly surrounded the Phantom made Mia want to discover his secrets. "Yes I do."

The Phantom paused and looked back up at her for a moment. "You what?"

"I want to hear the story."

"What story?"

Mia sighed, beginning to get frustrated with him. "The story of how you came here."

There was a moment of tense silence between the two. Finally he spoke. "I suppose it started with my birth. My father was dead before I was born, and my mother resented the fact that I tarnished his memory by looking like a monster. When I was about nine, a doctor began to court her, but my appearance disgusted him. He convinced her that I was unstable and needed to be locked in an asylum for her protection. When she agreed, I ran away before they could send me away. I spent the next few weeks in the woods, trying to survive on my own, and for the most part I was failing miserably. Eventually I stumbled upon a gypsy camp, and I was so close to starving to death, I couldn't resist the temptation and tried to steal some food. Of course, I was caught and once the gypsies discovered my appearance, they locked me in a cage to be put on display for the jeering crowds. I don't know how long I had been there, but finally one day I couldn't take it anymore, and I strangled my captor. There had been a girl in the crowd, a ballerina named Antoinette, and when she saw what I had done, she helped me escape, and brought me to the only place she knew, her home at the Opera Populaire. Once I learned to navigate the secret tunnels, I taught myself music and became the Phantom. I've stayed ever since."

Although she had indeed asked to hear the story, Mia wasn't sure she had been ready for it. She fell silent, unsure of what to say. The only thing she was sure of was that she actually felt sorry for the Phantom, no, for Erik. "It sounds like you and I both had pretty lousy mothers," she finally said to break the eerie quiet.

"Yes it would appear that way," he agreed as he resumed his work on her stitches. Once more, their eyes met. Mia realized that there was something gentler about the look in his eyes. She smiled softly and averted her gaze as she realized that once again she had managed to reach the elusive Erik yet again. Now it's just a matter of keeping him out, Mia thought to herself.