Chapter 17: The Bridges Between the Worlds; or the January Sunburst of Music

The lantern on the bow created a wavering circle of light around the boat, reflected by the black sheet of lake as they glided through the darkness towards the dimly illuminated lair.

Meg was not one to give in to fear easily, but she couldn't deny that the prospect of entering the underground again had scared her a bit, as had the very sight of the dark water. The gloomy, towering, masked Phantom undoubtedly wasn't a figure she associated with a sense of safety, yet somehow his presence had helped to reduce her unease.

During their walk through the tunnels, the Opera Ghost had mostly remained silent as she filled him in on her plans for the play's choreography, but she had already learnt that this was not a sign of hostility. The man had made some remarks at every important point of their path, and – to her surprise – had even shown her the secret mechanism that had caused her problems last time. Furthermore, even though he had kept his distance the whole way, he had evidently tried to adjust his long steps to her own, considerably shorter ones.

Meg grinned inwardly at the memory.

All in all, her journey deep down had turned out to be much easier than she'd expected, and she couldn't have been more grateful.

Meg took the gloved palm the Phantom offered and stepped out of the gondola onto the shore. A warm smile spread on her lips as she looked up. "Thank you."

Erik Engelgerd stared down at her with an undefinable expression. A few seconds later, his steel eyes shied away from her gaze, and he released her fingers, clearing his throat.

"This way."

Gesturing to indicate their route, the Opera Ghost turned on his heel and strode towards a few stone steps at the back of the main cave.

Meg obediently trotted after him, smiling to herself.

The musician always maintained a strong, upright stance, and as the Phantom he could be quite firm or even intimidating, but recently she had started to notice that he sometimes acted almost unsurely. Though, of course, he did all he could to hide it.

Ascending the short stairs, her host turned the corner and entered a dark chamber. Meg waited until he had lit the kerosene lamps, then stepped inside, looking curiously around.

The room was furnished with two large bookcases made from dark wood, a small piano with a bench and a grey-green upholstered sofa with a carved wooden frame, accompanied by a low table. This last one seemed as if it had been moved from its place in front of the sofa to beside the wall to make more space in the middle, and once again, Meg couldn't help but think warmly about how prepared – or maybe even thoughtful – the Opera Ghost could be.

The walls, like the rest of his apartment, were decorated with thick fabrics (here, in subdued shades of greens and ashes, including the curtain hiding the entrance to what she assumed was the next section of the cavern). There were also a few mirrors near the lamps to aid in lighting. It was a smaller and certainly less decorated room than the main workshop, but somehow it had a much nicer, cosier atmosphere.

"It's a really pleasant room." Meg glanced back up at her guide. "Though, I have to admit that I imagined the lair of the fearsome Phantom of the Opera a little differently." A tiny grin played on her lips. "You know, more skulls and skeletons. Or at least other creepy stuff, like unsettling mannequins or coffins."

Erik Engelgerd glowered at her.

"It's a music workshop and a flat." In his lowered voice, there was a dark note, but somehow it didn't sound truly threatening. Especially since she could have sworn that the left corner of his mouth twitched slightly for a split second.

The ballerina grinned.

"If you say so," she conceded politely. "Anyway, I think we can start in a moment. If you like, you can take a look at the music while I warm up."

The man accepted the folder that she handed him unceremoniously, and turned towards the piano.

Meg smiled again. Then, she walked aside to place her other papers and a pencil on the table and started her routine warm-up.

Erik took his seat by the piano, grateful to be free of further observation.

A lair. What in blazes were they all thinking about him up there?! Meg Giry certainly had quite a character to tease him like that!

He huffed inwardly, but a corner of his mouth twitched again. He couldn't deny that the joke wasn't unpleasant. Nevertheless, it was strange to bring someone to his hideout. Just as it was bizarre to play in front of someone again.

Erik swallowed.

Music was his domain. His shelter and his core. He could – and definitely planned to – focus only on technique instead of emotional interpretation while accompanying Meg Giry, but it still brought a feeling that was difficult to define.

It had been years since he had had a passing audience in the form of Madame or Monsieur Giry. Of course, he had played for Christine during their lessons, but Christine was… well, Christine. Furthermore, for technical reasons, he had always used his violin back then, and somehow that made a difference too.

Though he was fully aware it was just some ridiculous sentiment, clavichord and piano were the first instruments he had learnt to play. They brought back echoes of gentle lessons in the parish building, glimpses of his mother's face and memories of the days before he lost everything. And somehow, playing either instrument always felt...

Even more personal...

Clenching his hands and jaw, the Phantom pushed away these irrational thoughts and focused on the notation.

The few short pieces Meg Giry was supposed to choreograph for weren't an offense to music, but they were indeed simple, or – he thought – almost primitive.

Erik scowled and wondered if someone had scavenged them from some rather unsuccessful books for beginner players. Part of him started to note a list of changes that could improve the score, but at the same time he felt some sort of relief that it was nothing more sublime and that he hadn't been asked his opinion.

As the Opera Ghost, he had constantly sent advice to the previous manager, but always in the form of complete, written pieces of information. Having someone watching him during the raw process of creating was something entirely different. Not to mention that any modifications would require another meeting with a confusing ballerina, and that was something he could definitely do without.

He was just supposed to decently play these few melodies, and that was all.

No room for interpretation or changes.

And certainly no room for showing any unguarded part of himself…

"When you are ready, we can start with the first part." Meg Giry's soft voice brought him back to the task. Inclining his head in confirmation, Erik placed his hands on the keys.

The ballerina asked him to play every piece bit by bit as she performed the steps. Occasionally, she initiated a pause to add some corrections, which she meticulously scribbled down, loose golden locks of her half-tied-up hair brushing the surface of the low table she knelt next to.

She used only basic movements, which was understandable, considering the fact that she was supposed to teach the choreography to children who had not had much to do with classical dance. Regardless, it was still an interesting spectacle – especially since she was creating separate steps for a few groups of dancers. Taking advantage of the simplicity of the music, Erik couldn't resist throwing a few furtive glances in her direction.

The task was clearly below Meg Giry's abilities as well, but it didn't seem to bother her at all. Her eyes gleamed, and each of her graceful moves was in perfect harmony with the melody, just as they always were when she danced. Today, she just wore a simple long-sleeved grey-blue dress, but even without a shining costume or a limelight focused on her, she was still a true dancer, both inside and out.

Erik's thoughts went back to those few first glimpses of her that he had caught long ago, when she had been just a small girl with many ribbons in her hair, brought sometimes as a guest to the previous opera house on Le Peletier street. Whenever she had come, Little Meg had always tirelessly attempted to repeat all the exercises her mother had shown, and then had danced backstage her own childish dances for every aria without the ballet or run animatedly around the theatre asking everyone if she could help them with something.

Just like a tiny chirping bird…

Erik huffed inwardly at this comparison, but he couldn't deny that it was quite apt.

Meg Giry had undeniably changed since then, but she still had the same spark. A warm light that radiated from somewhere inside her.

The Opera Ghost once again thought about their choice of costumes for the masquerade.

A rook and a bluetit.

Doubtlessly, very strange company. Nevertheless, Meg Giry possessed an unfathomable ability to make most people feel welcome around her. And this, though still a little disorientating, made him feel almost like…

Almost like a normal human being…

The thought summoned a peculiar lump to his throat. Scolding himself inwardly for such absurd musings, the Phantom forced himself to concentrate on his work.

An hour and half later, Meg Giry finally announced the end.

"It's definitely far from perfect, but I think it's not bad either." Wiping away a tiny drop of sweat, the dancer approached Erik as he stood up from the piano bench. "Anyway, I'm really grateful for the help of the talented Erik Engelgerd." Her warm, hazel eyes rose to him, gratefulness mixed with a pinch of humour, and he felt a bit awkward again.

Meg Giry had already used his name once before, but it was still strange to hear it, especially in a combination with a smile.

Something inside him chose that moment to remind him that the person he wanted to hear use it the most had never referred to him in any other way than "teacher", "Maestro" or "the Angel of Music". And that now this list had only grown with the addition of the fear-inducing term "the Phantom"…

A sharp pang pierced his chest, and Erik averted his gaze, gritting his teeth to chase the pain away.

"It wasn't much trouble."

At his lack of a further response, the ballerina glanced aside too. For a few seconds, her line of sight rested on one of the partially covered mirrors, but fortunately she didn't ask him about it, turning her attention towards the bookcases instead.

"May I have a closer look?"

The Phantom nodded, and Meg Giry approached the other side of the room, eyeing his collection with visible interest.

Erik followed at a distance, grateful that a certain fairy tale book from their past was safely tucked in a drawer in his room, along with the rest of his most important (or embarrassing) belongings.

The dancer looked up, then bent to peek at the lower shelves.

"It really is quite an impressive collection." A hint of admiration slipped into her voice. "And I see that, save the wide choice of fiction, it contains a lot of other works – from architecture, engineering and stage mechanics, through music theory and history to… some moralistic and Bible-themed essays and guides?" A crease of surprise appeared on Meg's forehead, and she leaned closer, reading aloud the title that evidently shocked her the most.

"A… Young Gentleman's Guide to Becoming a Respectable and Valuable Member of Society?" Her eyes widened almost to the size of the saucers.

The girl turned to him with utter confusion written on her face, and Erik just couldn't stop himself:

"To become a truly despicable social outcast, one must know what to avoid," he stated with a shrug.

The disorientation on the ballerina's face transformed into even greater shock. A second later, though, lines of amusement appeared around her eyes, and a soft chuckle rippled out of her throat as she covered her mouth, desperately trying and failing to suppress the budding laughter.

It was just a muffled, huffing sound, yet it was peculiarly pleasant.

Erik felt the corners of his mouth tug up too, though the right one was quickly stopped by the patch of callous, deformed skin above it.

"I'm– I'm sorry." Meg Giry pressed her hand tighter, trying to regain control over herself. Despite her efforts, it took her almost two minutes.

Strangely, this didn't bother him at all.

"I… I guess I am a bit prone to unexpected jokes…" A hint of embarrassment added extra colour to the dancer's already flushed cheeks, but she still smiled warmly. "Especially good ones." Her gaze rose to him.

Erik belatedly realised that he should have restrained his own expression. To his bewilderment, though, the ballerina's face only brightened even more at the sight of his crooked smirk.

Meg Giry possessed an astounding arsenal of delicate half-smiles, but this was his first time seeing the radiant full version, which revealed a tiny dimple in her left cheek. For some reason, the grin made him think about the first warm rays of sunlight in the spring. And, though he had no idea why, some of the gentle warmth slipped into his chest too…

Silence hung in the air, and it came to Erik that he probably should have said or done something more instead of looming awkwardly over the petite ballerina (again).

A faint wave of heat climbed up his neck, and he hurriedly took a few steps aside.

Meg Giry glanced back towards the bookcases. "If I'm correct, the majority of that section of the library has something to do with my mother, doesn't it?" Her head tilted to the side as she looked back at him, frowning.

Erik winced slightly. "A correct assumption."

The dancer sighed, and then – as if a new thought came to her mind – her fair eyebrows furrowed more. "But she wasn't asking questions about their content like a teacher, was she?"

The question caught him completely off guard. He did not answer, but something in his expression must have given him away anyway, for Meg Giry groaned and hid her face in her hands.

"Goodness, I only hope she wasn't too harsh or irritating…" A note of guilt slipped into her tone, then she exhaled loudly, lowering her palms.

"My grandparents died early, so Maman had to be tough to survive," she said quietly. "I can't deny that she has quite an impressive tendency to moralise, and that sometimes she can be too strict. But it only means that she really cares…" Meg Giry glanced back up at him. Her features softened again, tenderness replacing her frown.

Erik once again found himself at a complete loss for words.

A moment later, the blonde looked down again. "Anyway," she stated, "it seems I've stalled too long, so I suppose I should be leaving." She turned and walked away to the table to gather her things.

Erik approached the piano to pick up the notation. He had only been asked to play it, not to state his opinion, but…

His fingers gripped the sheets of paper tightly.

"I think the tempo of the waltz should be changed to a slower one – closer to Boston than Viennese. Itwould suit the choreography much better."

Meg Giry jolted, spinning back towards him.

"Really?" Surprise on her face gave way to a prelude of enthusiasm. "I had similar thoughts myself, but I didn't want to propose anything, since I'm not a composer or a pianist and…" She hesitated, and her gaze flickered aside. "Well, I didn't want to be a bother…" Her expression dimmed a little, then brightened again as she glanced back up.

"Nevertheless, I would gladly accept any advice. Any adjustments would have to be rather simple, though, for we only have a hobby pianist who plays from time to time…" An apologetic smile brushed her lips.

Erik scowled, but there was no real irritation in it.

"I think we can manage that."

Meg Giry grinned radiantly.

The Phantom turned back towards the score.

"Anyway," he continued, "if we want to make this play at least a little less… mediocre, we could start by changing the very first part. The first song is supposed to be a nocturne, but it can barely be called one. I could correct it later. As for the next..."

The dancer came nearer as he commenced further explanation. Her arm found itself right next to his, and his breath stuttered slightly at this unexpected closeness. Fortunately, his shocked reaction went unnoticed, and despite the initial awkwardness, soon both of them delved into the work.

It was still a rather simple performance for children and certainly not something that would bring anyone any recognition, but for some reason Meg Giry seemed to honestly enjoy it.

With a prick of astonishment, Erik realised that the task wasn't exactly unpleasant for him, either.

Author's notes:

1) The phrase "sunburst of music" is taken from the song "You are music" from Kopit and Yeston's musical Phantom. I like it, as well as the 1990s miniseries, so a lot of things in my fic are inspired by them – including most of Erik's character traits. Extra points to everyone who has already noticed some "Charles Dance vibes"! :)

2) According to what I read on the Internet (Britannica, Wikipedia, streetswing and dancefans), the Viennese waltz is a faster, rotary type of waltz. It gained ground after the Congress of Vienna in 1815, which probably explains its name. The Boston is a slower (Americanised) version of a 19th-century waltz with long sweeping steps, a derivative of its faster version. It – along with different versions of slower waltzes that were developing alongside the Viennese one – probably stimulated the development of what we know nowadays as an English waltz (also called a slow or International Standard waltz).

3) According to the few books about the 19th century on the Polish grounds that I've read, amateur theatrical performances (as well as so-called "living pictures") were quite a common pastime/entertainment among the upper and middle classes. As far as I know, it was similar in other parts of Europe (France included), so I couldn't resist using this idea in my story. I hope that it fits the plot quite well.

I also think that some old guides had long titles that were a bit funny – including the made-up ones. ;)