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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
- 6
- 7
- 8
Madam Giry pulled Meg aside after the final bows. She let the rest of the troupe pass, falling into a leisurely pace behind them once they were out of earshot. Her face still conveyed a fading hurt, and her usual stoicism only made it more evident.
“I heard about what you chose to do with your tokens of admiration. It was an honorable gesture.”
Meg's cheeks grew warmer. “Thank you.” She answered. “They were more than any single person could enjoy. It only seemed right to share them.”
“Leanna might gain a bit more respect if she showed a similar sentiment. But to the point, something tells me that you can expect more of such gifts. Shall I instruct that your flowers be divided amongst the girls in the future?”
“Yes!” Chimed Meg excitedly before recomposing herself. “That would be perfect. Thank you. Oh, except for ones that seem special. Like ones that have notes.”
“Ah yes. Your admirer. That has also been brought to my attention.” Madam Giry looked at her with a raised eyebrow as they rounded the corner into the main hallway. “Are you certain there is nothing I should know?”
“No, I--”
“Meg? Meg Giry?” Meg turned to see a young man only a bit older than herself step forward. His strong, chiseled jaw and thick black hair perfectly framed a set of deep blue eyes. He was devilishly handsome in his own right, and the painstakingly tailored suit only added to his dashing appearance. Madam Giry took one sweeping glance of him, her other brow raising to meet the first, and made her exit.
“I am she.” Meg said.
“You danced beautifully tonight.” Said the man with a charming smile. “I was hoping I might interest you in an evening stroll.” Meg gave him another once-over. He was very good looking, and she knew that she should give him a chance. But the only thing she could think of at that moment was her meeting with Erik.
“I must regretfully decline.” She cut past him and continued down the hallway, and much to her frustration, he followed suit.
“Please, Mademoiselle. My heart will be adrift if you do not permit me the pleasure of your company.”
“I am truly sorry Monsieur, but I have promised the evening to another.” To her relief, he stopped where he stood.
“I see.” He said, and the crestfallen tone of his voice made her feel terrible. “Of course. How silly of me to think I would be the only one vying for your attention.”
“My deepest apologies. Perhaps another time.” To her surprise, he was not disheartened for long and caught up to her in a flash. He turned to walk backwards so that they were speaking face to face.
“That is just fine by me. You may find I am not so easily deterred!” She quickened her pace, but he kept in stride. “I shall attend every performance and send flowers every night until I have stolen your heart!” His enthusiasm was flattering, and she couldn't suppress a giggle as he nearly tripped over an end-table.
“Very well.” She laughed as they reached the door to the costume room. “But my training schedule is very strict. I can make no promises.”
“Your consideration is gift enough. Should I send something different next time? Or did the red roses please you?” Meg's entire body stiffened, hand frozen on the doorknob; the smile fading from her face.
“What?” She breathed.
“The ones I sent last night. Did you not receive them? I attached a note.”
“No... I...” She stuttered, doing her best to find words through the torrent of thoughts screaming through her mind. “Those were from you?”
He took her hand, bowing as he kissed her knuckles. “Martine Beaudet of Beaudet Banking, at your service.”
“They suite me just fine. Please excuse me, I need to change.” In one swift movement, she slipped out of his grasp and through the door, closing it behind her.
Not knowing whether Erik had cast her away for good was torture. For a fleeting second she considered heading to the dance studio in his home. After all, he had said 'I give it to you'. She shook her head as if to dislodge the notion. That kind of brazen behavior had been the cause of this whole mess, and the thought of angering him further was terrifying. But she had to try something. On uncertain legs, she headed for the special place hidden behind the mannequins.

* * * * *
“Maestro?” Meg stood a few feet inside the secret entrance as she called for him. She'd caught him off guard, leaving him less than a second to slip undetected around the first bend. “Maestro!” Her tone relayed a timid desperation, and yet she hadn’t dared move any farther down the passageway. The Phantom slumped against the wall, leaning his head back on the frigid stone as if it might help solidify his resolve. It had been painfully hard to stay away, but with the feel of her lips still fresh in his mind, he didn't trust himself. Again, her voice echoed down the hall. “Erik!”
It would be so easy to yield to temptation and go to her. He would spend every franc he possessed showering her in lavish gifts if it meant feeling the way he had with her in his arms. But deep down he knew that her love was priced in a currency he could not earn. That thought was the meager thread supporting his will to stay away. Her voice fell to a whisper, as if she'd lost all hope that he could hear her. “Erik... please. I need you.” The thread frayed.
Time ticked by as he waited for her to leave. He finally heard her slippers shuffle across the floor and let out a relieved exhale. But then another noise reached his ears. It was the sound of a single, hiccuping sob. His stomach lurched, and before he knew what was happening, he was rounding the corner towards her.
“Meg.” She spun to face him, tears glittering on her cheeks.
“Maestro... I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I made a mistake. Please don't forsake me!” She babbled. “I'll be good, I promise! I'll be good.” Fresh tears welled up in her eyes. “I'll behave.”
He moved forward, gently cupping her face and brushing away a tear with his thumb. “Hush now, its alright. All is forgiven.” She looked up at him, searching his face as if it were whole. Such a simple thing, and yet it made his heart and mind flutter with unjustifiable hopes. He cast them from his thoughts before they could take a dangerous hold. “Come, we should practice. I didn't build you a studio for it to go unused.” He turned to lead the way, but not before catching the smile that graced her lips.
For several hours she practiced. His violin sung as she flowed through the routines, stopping only when he worked to better define her movements. Even through his kid skin gloves, the heat of her body seared his flesh with every touch. Erik did his best to concentrate, but it was difficult at times. Learning the dance of the east had done a great deal for her. She moved with both poise and fluidity. And yet he did not see what he knew she was capable of. The potential was there, thinly veiled but still hidden, floating just below the surface.
They finished the last set and he ushered her to his side. “I have good news for you.” He said, setting down his instrument. “I recieved word that in two week's time, Denis Lazard the infamous art critic will be visiting our theatre. It is imperative that you make a lasting impression with him. With his praises, the world will fall to your feet.” Her look of curiosity transformed into one of worry.
“But how? I am nothing but a chorus girl!” She began to breath faster. Erik sighed, coming to stand behind her.
“Leanna is a beautiful lead, is she not?”
“Yes.” Meg replied. “She is very graceful.”
“But tell me. Does her performance move you?” She glanced back at him with unsure eyes.
“No.”
“Nor I.” He answered. “But why not?”
“I... don't know.”
“Because it is just a series of movements. Dry. Emotionless. She doesn't dance with her heart.” In a moment of self-indulgence, the Phantom grasped one of her shoulders. He reached around to pick up her tiny hand and press it to her chest. Her pulse thrummed rapidly under his palm as he whispered in her ear. “Show me your heart, Meg. Move with the music in your soul.”
She took a deep breath, closing her eyes as he picked up his violin once more. And when she began to dance...
The difference was night and day.
- 6
- 7
- 8
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Phoenix