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Phoenix	By : LadyMeda Category: M through R > Phantom of the Opera Views: 4486 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Phantom of the Opera or any variation thereof. I do not make any money from this fiction. Tags include things that will be in future chapters.

Chapter List
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Meg watched in a numb stupor as the room buzzed with activity. Annette wrapped a blanket around Meg's body to hide what what her tattered gown no longer covered. Two stage-hands carried Martine's limp form out of the room as the manager tried his best to hold the crowd at bay beyond the door's threshold.
With feeble dismay, Meg realized that this was no more than a human exhibit in which she was the sole inhabitant. The manager's outstretched arms made up the bars of her cage. Inquisitive eyes peered in over them, their owners whispering behind open palms as they fought to witness her misfortune. The curious attention of the crowd made Meg's skin crawl. She was too numb, too exhausted to be the ballerina on stage for them. All she wanted was a safe, familiar place.
It seemed like an eternity before the door finally closed, shutting out the noise of the crowd. She looked up to find a police inspector standing before her. At that moment she was thankful for Annette, who sat dabbing her sore cheek with a damp cloth.
I'm sorry Miss Giry, but I need to know what happened.” The inspector prompted without so much as an introduction.
“Monsieur, I am very tired.” She said. “Can we discuss this at another time?”
“I'm afraid not.” He insisted as he moved towards her. “But I promise, I will be brief.”
With sigh and a weary heart, Meg recounted the evening as the inspector examined the bruises on her wrists and face. When it came to the point where Erik had saved her, she faltered.
“Then... I... broke free.” She lied. “He chased after me, and I hit him with a candlestick.”
The inspector nodded, a hand on his chin as if deep in thought.
“Am I to understand that as you ran for the door... and with obvious ill-intent, he made chase?” He asked. “So you defended yourself?”
“That's correct, Monsieur.”
He looked at her with an inquisitive expression. “Then how is it that Monsieur Beaudet ended up with a blow to the back of his head? If he was coming towards you, shouldn't it be in the front?”
Meg gaped at him, her mouth falling open despite having no explanation to come out of it.
“Inspector, please!” The Persian interrupted nervously as he stepped out of the shadows. “Miss Giry has been through a great deal. Any further questions can surely be held for another time!”
The inspector held up a stern hand to silence him. “I'd really rather she answer them now. The son of one of the wealthiest men in Paris has been assaulted, and I would like to hear about it before stories have a chance to change.” He looked back to Meg. “Now... as you were saying?”
Meg fumbled to think of an explanation. “Well I.... you see, after he--”
To her surprise, Annette's petite voice cut her off.
“It's alright, Meg.” She said, squeezing one of Meg's hands. “You don't need to protect me any longer.” As the two girls looked at each other, a thousand thoughts and emotions passing between them in that brief glance. With a strength that Meg couldn't help but admire, Annette stood and faced the inspector with her chin held high.
“It was I that struck him.” She bluffed. “I came in, and when I saw what he was doing, I hit him with the first thing I could find.”
The inspector studied her with keen eyes. “And why did you two conspire to hide such a detail?”
This time it was Meg that interjected. “Monsieur, please understand. Annette has just debuted as a dancer here. Such a scandal could end her career before it has even begun. I implore you to keep that part of the story confidential. This terrible day needn't have any more victims.”
The two girls held their breath as his careful scrutiny passed back and forth between them.
“Very well.” He said finally, standing to exit the room. “I've heard enough. Good evening, ladies. Thank you both for your time.”
As soon as the door closed behind him, all three of the room's occupants shared a sigh of relief. After a moment, the Persian turned to Meg.
“Miss Giry, you are most likely very tired.” He glanced at the blood-soaked carpet. “I trust that you would rather sleep somewhere else tonight. If you like, you can sleep in my room and I will find somewhere else to retire.”
“Thank you, but no.” She said. “I would rather be somewhere more familiar. If it is quite alright, I would prefer the dancer's dormitories.”
He responded with a bow. “As you wish, Mademoiselle. And I promise that within a few days, we will have this room as good as new.” With a final bob, he tucked out of the room.
Meg was so tired she could hardly stand on her own. Annette helped her off the bed, both of them taking special care not to slip on the mess Martine had left behind as they headed for the dormitories.

* * * * *
The dorm was empty when Meg awoke the next morning. As she lay in bed her mind played through the events of the night before. It was more like watching someone else's life than her own. The seemingly sweet, handsome Martine had tried to take her against her will. His personality had changed so quickly, it was like... taking off a mask.
'...once I've had my fill, no other man will want you.'
A cold, clammy sweat washed over her face as his words floated back to her. The realization that he'd had every intention of seriously hurting her suddenly made it all very real. Meg wondered what she had done to deserve such wrath.
'...after everything I've given you, did you think you could toss me aside?'
A sickening feeling invaded her stomach.
Had she brought this upon herself? Could she be to blame for what he'd tried to do? For his death? Meg wrapped her head in her pillow, as if to shield her mind from the horrifying thought; but it persisted. Yes, it said.
It told her that she'd given him every reason to think he owned her heart. She'd strung him along and then rejected him without even an explanation.
The voice of reason chimed in, pointing out that he'd meant to harm or possibly even kill her. It insisted that he had taken advantage of her trust. As Meg's anger towards Martine began to mount, the other voice reminded her that it was her fault for lying to him about how she felt. The two thoughts began to war back and forth until she wanted to shout 'ENOUGH!'
As her heart grew heavy with guilt and confusion, she longed to feel the safety of Erik's arms again. Meg closed her eyes, reliving the way he'd held her tight; as if he meant to squeeze out all the pain. And then he'd given her the thing she wanted most of all; his trust.
Meg bolted upright. Panic began to rear its ugly head as she remembered her reaction to seeing his face. She hadn't had time to tell him how she felt. If only there had been a moment to explain that her tears were not ones of fear or sadness, but of gratitude and relief. She had prepared herself for so much worse; having conjured the most horrific of possibilities as to what lay hidden behind the sliver of white. The reality of it could not hold a candle to her imaginings, and paled in comparison to the brutality she had just endured.
Meg had no doubts that Erik would have interpreted her tears in the worst possible light. Her legs hardly had time to get their bearings before she was hastily throwing her dressing robe over her nightgown. In seconds she was rushing towards the underground. With hardly a hesitation through the labyrinth of passages, she found her way to his music room. Erik sat in one of his chairs, a hand on his temple as if he had been lost in thought. As she approached he jumped to his feet with a worried expression.
“Meg. I hadn't expected to see you.”
He rushed to her, laying his hands on her arms. “How are you feeling? Are you alright?”
“I'm fine.” She answered. “Better than expected. Martine succeeded in very little. You saw to that.”
Erik looked away as if he had grown uncomfortable. “Yes, and I'm... sorry.” The words came out as if they had a foul taste. “I had no intention of putting you through more of an ordeal.”
“It could have been so much worse!” Meg insisted. “But you saved me. It is I that should apologize. Its my fault that he...”
Guilt set in again, and her voice trailed off as she lost all interest in finishing the sentence.
“Oh?" Erik stared at her before letting out a snort of incredulous laughter. "Please, entertain me with how this could be your fault.”
“Its not funny!” She cried. “I let him think that I could love him! I let him give me gifts and dote on me for nothing!”
Erik cocked his head to the side as if considering her argument.
“I see.” He said as the hold on her arms tightened. “So that is all it takes to buy the rights to your body?”
She began to protest his question, but he interrupted her. “Then what of me?” He lulled as he held her firm, moving so close that their bodies were nearly touching. “I built you a dance studio with my own two hands. I gifted you a room in my home. And I have given you something that no other man could; the love of all of Paris.”

Meg knew she should be frightened, but as his breath danced across her lips, something stirred warm inside her. A part of her wanted to feel his punishing hands on her flesh; as if they might tear away her guilt.
“So what has that earned me?” He asked, bending down and forcing Meg to meet his gaze.
Deep down, she knew what he wanted to hear; but she could not bring herself to say it. “But...”
“Nothing!” Erik barked, giving her shoulders a fierce shake. “It has earned me nothing, Meg! And it earned him no more! You did nothing to deserve what happened. Nothing. The sooner you get that through your head, the safer you will be.”
Erik's hands seemed to peel reluctantly off of her as he moved away. “Thankfully I already learned that lesson, or you might have had two wolves nipping at your heels.”
He draped himself across his chair, dangling a leg over its arm like a black panther lounging in a tree. “It took four long years and two voyages across the ocean for me to learn it, but at least I had an excuse.” With open palms, he gestured to the room around them. “I spent most of my life living in a cave.”
Try as she might, Meg could not read his emotions. He looked both sinister and dashing as he observed her with keen eyes. Another warm twinge shot through her stomach. The room grew silent. Meg found herself unable to speak, rooted to the spot as she watched him watching her.
“You still haven't said to what I owe this visit.” He finally asked, jolting her out of her stupor.
“Oh! Yes, of course. I wanted to tell you--” She started, suddenly unsure how to say what she wanted to. “Well, after what happened last night and... what you showed me....”
Erik's body tensed. “You don't need to explain.” He interrupted with a wave of his hand. “I understand.”
Glancing away as if it was too painful to look at her, he continued. “As I said before, you owe me nothing. Say the word, and our time together will be at an end.”
Meg's heart skipped a terrified beat. “N-no!” She stammered, running to kneel before him. “Please, don't say such things!”
A tiny smile crossed Erik's lips as he looked at her, but it did not reach his eyes. “It is best that way.” He said, running a palm over her cheek. “Try as I might, I cannot keep my hands off of you.”
His hand began to fall away, but she held it in place. “Then don't.”
Erik's jaw visibly tightened, making his words come out in a hiss. “Do NOT tempt me. You are treading on dangerous grounds. If you aren't careful, you will find this demonic face too close for comfort.”
He tried to look away again, but Meg grasped his cheeks.
“Erik, please listen!” She insisted, forcing him to look her in the eye. “When I saw you last night, you did not appear to me as an angel... or a devil.” She paused, finding the right words. “Behind that mask, I saw only the face of a man.”
As his silver eyes regarded her with worry, she dug up the courage to speak her heart.
“I saw only the face of the man I love.”
Slowly his guarded expression began to falter. The corners of his mouth twitched downward as something between a sigh and a moan escaped his throat. The next thing she knew she was in Erik's arms, his lips pressing urgently into hers.
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- 15
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Phoenix