Hello ~ thank you for reading my story! It's been a while since I've posted on FF but I'm excited to be back, especially with new ideas. This story is one I've had on my mind for years and is a fanfic for one of my favorite movies, The Phantom of the Opera, and features one of my favorite ships, Erik and Meg.
I welcome all feedback - my only ask is that you're respectful. I hope you enjoy the story!
Disclaimer: I do not own The Phantom of the Opera or any of the characters. The only thing I own are my ideas.
Track down the murderer! The angry cries reverberated throughout his caves, causing Erik to momentarily pause and throw a quick glance over his shoulder. They would never find him in the underground labyrinth that he'd spent years constructing, he reassured himself, before he turned and moved deeper through the tunnels.
But, how long would they remain in his cave? He didn't have any supplies and would need food and water soon. There was also the fact that he was now maskless since Christine had ripped his black domino mask off on stage and he had, rather foolishly, not grabbed his white mask before fleeing. Erik scowled as he replayed the last few hours and considered his current predicament. Nothing had gone per his plan. Christine had betrayed and humiliated him in every way possible, from revealing his gruesome appearance to the public to spurning his love and revealing the deep pity that she felt for him. In the end, she had chosen the Vicomte even after Erik had laid his heart at her feet. As he wandered deeper into his cavernous retreat, Erik continued to alternate between feelings of anger and despair as he thought about losing Christine and the current situation he found himself in.
Meg Giry looked around the cave that the Phantom lived in, her caramel eyes widening slightly in awe. It was vast, with a large organ standing supreme in the center of the room, if it could be called that. There were candles everywhere along with dozens and dozens of books piled upon each other on his desk, which was overflowing with notes. As she climbed the stone stairs, she saw several framed pictures leaning against the walls along with random props, which she quickly recognized from previous productions.
A Tale of Two Cities, Jane Eyre, Wuthering Heights, The Republic, Walden. Meg read some of the titles as she paused near his desk. It seemed that the Phantom was well read and very intelligent, she mused to herself as she absentmindedly stroked the spines of the books.
She supposed it made sense that he was an avid reader as it was fairly obvious that the man was a genius. A bit unhinged but a genius nonetheless. A clatter shook her from her thoughts and she turned to see the mob ransacking his cave. She felt horrible about the outcome but, she reminded herself, two people were dead because of the Phantom. And she still needed to find Christine. Who knew where the Phantom had taken her in his distraught state of mind.
Making her way towards the organ, she saw his compositions scattered throughout the cave as the mob ripped his home apart searching for him.
Meg couldn't stifle the pang of sadness she felt as she saw all of his hard work discarded on the floor, just as society had discarded him. What must it be like to possess such talent yet be scorned and unable to share it with anyone, Meg wondered. Careful not to step on any of his work, she reached into her bag and pulled out the white mask that she had picked up when she first entered.
Where had the Phantom gone? There was still a decent amount of people down in the caverns but most had returned upstairs, convinced that the Phantom had already escaped from the Opera Populaire. The few who remained behind were no doubt looking to see what they could steal, if anything. She doubted that the props would sell for much. She took a step forward and let out a slight gasp as she felt her foot stub against something.
Her eyes widened as they fell on an old wooden box with a monkey holding cymbals on top of it. Deciding that it looked valuable, she quickly glanced around and, noticing that no one was paying her any attention, shoved it behind the thick curtain, hiding it from the looters.
"There's nothing but junk here," one of the men said and a few others agreed. "Let's go look outside. It seems he has already escaped."
Meg quickly moved further into his lair, hiding herself as the mob left. When she was sure that everyone was gone, she returned to the desk, looking around the massive cave as the silence echoed around her.
Curious about the mysterious man who had lived beneath the opera house for so many years, she began to riffle through the papers on the desk, noting that most were compositions. How, she wondered, had she never known that her mother had befriended the man years earlier and had brought him here to live?
She thought about the story she overheard her mother sharing with Raoul. As she did, she felt another pang in her heart as she thought about the Phantom, scorned as a child and as an adult because of a face he was born with. How was it his fault that he was given such a face? It did not mean that he didn't deserve love. Soft tears flowed to her eyes as she imagined a young child, tormented and bullied because of how he looked. How scared must he have been, she wondered as she placed the papers back on the desk and reached into her bag.
She once again pulled out the mask and looked down at it. The hollow eye seemed to stare back at her, peering into her soul as if it wanted to reveal to her the pain of its owner.
Hide your face so the world will never find you. The words echoed in her ears as she thought back to the masquerade ball. What so many had done for fun was his reality.
Imagine living your entire life hiding behind a mask, she thought to herself as she gently stroked the mask in her hand.
The mask was his only true home in a world that had rejected him since his birth. It made sense that she should return his home to him. Quickly, she turned and looked around for somewhere safe to leave it, moving past the organ to the other side of the cave. As she walked around looking for a spot, a slight gasp escaped her lips as her eyes fell on what appeared to be a shrine.
"Christine," she breathed as she looked at the numerous paintings and drawings of her adopted sister. She knew that the Phantom had been obsessed with her sister, who he considered his protégé, and had fallen in love with her.
However, looking at the shrine, she now realized the true extent of his obsession with Christine. The paintings and drawings of her sister were beautiful and revealed the deep talent of the artist but they also revealed his dark obsession and desperation as well. She turned and saw a red curtain, which seemed to be hiding another part of the cave. Thinking that it might be a safe spot to leave his mask, Meg pulled back the heavy red curtain.
Immediately, she startled and accidentally flung the mask across the room as a scream nearly escaped her mouth. A wax figure of Christine wearing a wedding dress was staring back at her. Clamping her hand over her mouth, Meg stumbled back, unnerved by how realistic the model looked. Just as she had thought, the Phantom was brilliant but deeply unhinged.
Deciding she had had enough exploring, Meg turned and began making her way back to the boat, her thoughts on her mother, who was probably worried and searching for her. As she did, her eyes fell on a composition lying against the organ.
"Don Juan," she whispered, picking up the opera they had been performing that night. Leafing through the composition, she began to hum the melody and was amazed at how beautiful and brilliant the composition was.
She carefully took a seat at the organ, so as to not disrupt his notes. Slowly, she placed her hands on the keys and began to softly play the notes, grateful that her mother had forced her to learn how to sing and to play as a child.
"You cannot belong to a musical family and not know how to sing and play." Madame Giry's voice echoed in her head as Meg played the notes in front of her. She supposed her Maman was right. After all, she had spent all of her life in the opera house and had grown up interacting with all aspects of the arts.
Quietly, Meg began to sing the words on the page, her soft voice carrying throughout the cave like a whisper.
Inside the passageway, Erik paused and quickly looked in the direction he had just come from. Someone was playing and singing his music.
"Christine," he breathed, feeling his spirits lift. Could it be? Had she chosen him after all? Elated, he began to make his way back to his cave, his heart beating faster with each step.
As he reached the entrance, he slowed before he paused, his eyes growing wide as he took in the blonde-haired woman playing and singing at his organ. It wasn't Christine!
Anger slowly flowed through him as he watched the woman singing the opera he had written for Christine. How dare she! Quietly, he slipped into his room to recover one of his masks. He would make her regret coming down to his lair.
"How dare you come here!" Meg startled as the Phantom's voice reverberated off of the walls. She quickly leapt to her feet, her eyes darting around for the source of the voice. The Phantom was nowhere to be seen.
"Monsieur Fantome," she called, looking around as she willed her heart to stop racing. "I mean you no harm."
"Lies," she heard his voice whisper in her ear and quickly spun around. There was no one there. "You are all liars. Get out of my home!"
"I'm sorry," she blurted out and Erik paused.
"I'm sorry for what Christine did," she continued, causing Erik's anger to grow even stronger at her pity and at the mention of Christine.
"Don't say her name!" His deep voice boomed, causing Meg to bend her head and cover her ears as it echoed throughout the cave.
"Please," she cried, straightening herself as she looked around for him, her back to the organ. "I am not afraid of you, Monsieur."
"Are you sure?" his voice whispered near her ear once again. She spun around and her eyes grew wide as she saw the Phantom standing before her, his figure large and imposing.
However, instead of the white mask that he normally wore, he was wearing a skeleton mask and looked akin to something from a horror novel.
A scream tore through her throat as the bone-white face stared back at her and she stumbled backward in panic. As she did, her normally graceful feet seemed to lose all coordination and Meg let out another yell as she fell backwards into the lake. Just as her body hit the water, her head hit a rock, sending a wave of pain throughout her body. She looked up and saw the Phantom standing above her before darkness began to set in and the water engulfed her.
Erik watched as the blonde-haired woman tumbled backwards into the lake, terror clear on her face as the water submerged her. He looked at her for a few seconds before he turned and began to walk away, certain that she would flee now that she had seen what she had come to see.
After a few strides, he slowed his pace before he paused and slowly turned towards the lake. Why hadn't she resurfaced? The water wasn't deep as one could easily wade through it. Where was she?
After a few more seconds, Erik made his way towards the lake and realized that she was nowhere to be seen in the murky water. Quickly, he walked into the water and began to wade around, his hands searching for her under the water. Suddenly, he felt a figure touch his leg. He reached into the water and pulled her up, his eyes growing wide as he looked at her face properly for the first time.
"Little Giry," he breathed, realizing that the woman was none other than Marguerite Giry, Madame Giry's daughter and Christine's adoptive sister.
"Damn it," he hissed to himself as he dragged an unconscious Meg from the water and lifted her bridal-style. He looked down at her pale face and realized she wasn't breathing. Quickly, he laid her down on the stone floor and set to work trying to revive her. Shame and guilt gnawed at him as he tried unsuccessfully to revive the young woman before him. After all her mother had done to help him and he had repaid her kindness by killing her only child.
No! He wouldn't let young Giry die. Propping Meg's head up, Erik opened her mouth and began to blow air into it before pumping her chest. He continued with no success for almost a minute.
"No, no, please don't be dead. Wake up, Marguerite," he pleaded with the blonde, whose skin was now ice-cold and pale. "Marguerite, wake up!"
There was no response or movement from the blonde.
"No," Erik shook his head in despair as he realized that she was most likely dead. "What will I tell Antoinette?"
What would Christine think of him after she learned that he had killed her sister? She would never love him, that was certain.
As Erik sat there wondering what he would tell the ballet mistress and struggling with guilt over killing Christine's sister, Meg suddenly let out a cough. Immediately, he turned her on her side as she sucked in a deep, ragged breath before coughing and sputtering as she pushed the water from her lungs.
"You're alive." Erik breathed a sigh of relief as he watched her taking several ragged breaths and coughing up the rest of the water. She turned and looked at him, her eyes widening slightly before they began to close as she slumped backward into unconsciousness. Staring down at her unconscious form, Erik debated what to do with her. He couldn't just dump her in her room. Her body was still very cold and he knew that leaving her alone would no doubt lead to her death. He had no choice but to care for her until he was sure she wouldn't die.
Letting out a sigh, he picked her up and made his way to his room, gently setting her down on the bed. As he looked down at her soaked body, he knew he needed to remove the wet clothes or she would catch a fever.
Quickly, he set to work opening the soaked blouse, pausing as he looked down at the soft curve of her exposed chest. His hands clenched before he let out a low growl and turned away, frustration flowing through him. Was there no end to his torture?
His mood now dark, he set to work removing her wet clothes, careful to keep his eyes averted as he did. After dressing her in an old dress from a production from years ago, he covered her with his cloak. As he did, she let out a shiver, her cheeks flushing pink as her body tried to warm itself up. He looked around and found another one of his cloaks, which he also wrapped around her.
As Erik looked down at the sleeping Meg, the image of an angel suddenly appeared before him. Her blonde hair was gathered around her, almost like a halo, and her pink lips were slightly parted in a serene smile as she slept. She looked like an ethereal creature and, for a moment, Erik wondered if she was real. Unconsciously, he raised his hand to touch her before he caught himself and paused. How could a monster like him touch a creature like her? Clenching his jaw, he lowered his hand before he turned and quickly retreated to the other room.
Erik looked around his cave, his mood even more dark as he took in his ransacked home. Christine had destroyed his mind while the mob had destroyed his cave, leaving him homeless in more ways than one. He began to shuffle around his papers and clean up, stopping every so often to check on Meg, who was still asleep. By now, she had warmed up and it appeared that she did not have a fever.
"At least one thing worked out," he sighed to himself, making his way back to his organ. He had finally finished putting everything back together and had even found his white mask but could not find his music box. No doubt some thief had taken it for a nice penny.
He settled down on his seat and began to play a soft melody, his mind drifting back to Christine. What had gone wrong, he wondered? He had poured everything into her and had given her all of his love. But, in the end, it still wasn't enough.
How could she have chosen the Vicomte over him, he gritted his teeth as he struck an angry chord.
In the end, the only thing he had was his music, he realized as a languid melody flowed from the pipes. He closed his eyes and saw Christine smiling back at him as she began to sing, his notes drifting around her.
Erik slowly approached her, his hand carefully winding its way around her waist as she pressed her back into him, swaying as the music wrapped around them.
I have come here, hardly knowing the reason why
He closed his eyes as her hand stroked his cheek, her touch setting his entire being on fire. Her head was thrown back in a state of ecstasy as the music washed over her and she lost herself in him.
In my mind I've already imagined
Our bodies entwining defenseless and silent
Erik could feel Christine surrendering to the power of his voice as her body relaxed against his. In that moment, she had wanted him and would have easily been his if the police hadn't interrupted their duet.
And now I am here with you
No second thoughts
Suddenly, a scream jolted him from his reverie. Snapping his eyes open, Erik ran towards his room, pausing in the doorway. Meg was thrashing in the bed, her face twisted in horror as she tossed from side to side.
Erik watched from the doorway as tears streamed down her face and helpless noises escaped her lips.
"No!" she was mumbling, thrashing vigorously in the bed. Erik began walking towards her, afraid that she would hurt herself.
"Monster!" Her yell caused him to pause and he watched as more tears streamed down her face. Was she dreaming about him, he thought bitterly as a slight scowl crossed his face.
He took in her trembling form, watching as she let out a few more whimpers before she fell back into a fitful sleep. Deciding that the little ballerina was more trouble than she was worth, Erik made his way to her and lifted her.
He had done his part, he assured himself as he slowly made his way back to the opera house using his secret passages. He hadn't killed Marguerite Giry, who was alive and well, and that was all he cared about. Satisfied, he deposited her into her bed before he melted away into the shadows once again, returning to his grieving in his cave.
Meg awoke with a start, her breaths coming out in little huffs as her lungs burned slightly. Where was she?
She sat up slowly and looked around, trying to remember what had happened. She remembered being in the Phantom's lair and finding his mask before he scared her, causing her to plunge into the lake. Then, everything had gone black.
Yet here she was, back in her room. Had it all been a dream, she wondered before she felt a dull pain in her head. She gingerly touched it, letting out an ouch as her fingers connected with a slight bump. It hadn't been a dream!
She suddenly remembered hitting her head as she had plunged backward into the lake, causing her to black out in the water and almost drown. But, she hadn't drowned.
A shadowy figure had been calling her name and desperately trying to revive her as she drifted between realms.
"He saved me," she whispered to herself. But why? As she gently massaged the bump on her head, Meg thought back to the night before. Maybe he wasn't as bad as people thought.
"Meg!" her mother's voice snapped her from her thoughts as the door opened and the ballet mistress entered her room. "There you are. Where were you last night?"
Meg carefully crawled out of the bed and opened her mouth to answer before she paused and looked down at her gown.
"Where did you get that?" her mother asked the same question on her mind. Where did she get it, Meg wondered? Had the Phantom changed her clothes?
Her cheeks began to burn as she realized that he must have since her other clothes would have been soaked.
"Meg?" her mother's voice shook her from her thoughts once again. "Are you ok? Your cheeks look flushed."
"I'm fine, Maman. I found it buried in my closet. It's probably from an old production," she quickly lied, hoping her mother wouldn't push further. Thankfully, Madame Giry did not and Meg let out a soft sigh of relief. It was clear from her face that her mother was preoccupied with other matters.
"Well, hurry up and get dressed. Monsieur André and Firmin want to speak to everyone," Madame Giry said as she busied herself tidying up the room a bit.
"Maman," Meg paused, afraid to ask the question on everyone's mind. "What will happen now?"
Her mother stopped and slowly turned to face her, her expression unreadable as she replied, "I do not know, Meg. I can only hope that the Opera Populaire will recover from this tragedy."
Meg gave a small nod before she continued, "and Christine?"
"With Raoul," her mother answered and Meg let out a small sigh of relief as a smile crossed her face. Her sister was safe with the love of her life.
"Now, hurry up and get dressed," Madame Giry said before she suddenly paused and approached her daughter.
"Did you sleep?" the ballet mistress asked, raising her daughter's face slightly as she began to inspect it. There were mild dark circles under Meg's eyes and her face looked slightly paler than usual.
"Not fully," Meg confessed and watched as her mother's eyebrows knitted together.
"The nightmares have returned?" Madame Giry asked in a low voice and Meg nodded slightly.
"My poor child, I thought they stopped. I will speak to the physician," Antoinette said before she placed a quick kiss on Meg's head. "Now, hurry up and get dressed."
With that, she turned and left Meg alone in the room with her thoughts.
As Meg changed her clothes, she pondered her mother's words. What was going to happen now? The only life that she and her mother knew was at the Opera. Where would they go if the Opera Populaire shut down?
And that's the end of chapter 1! Curious to hear your thoughts so please leave a review sharing your thoughts. Thanks and more to come!
-DramaQueen95