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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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Martine was waiting for her to change. Meg had told the Phantom about him, determined to prove that she was moving on. He had seemed happy to hear it, encouraging her to give the man some of her time. He'd even forgone their training schedule, instructing that she travel to his home below the opera when she wanted to practice. It was a bitter-sweet invitation.
Annette helped her slip on her warm cloak, chattering like a hen about how dashing Monsieur Beaudet was. Meg had half a mind to insist that Annette go out with him in her stead. But as she stepped through the door to meet him, she had to admit that Annette was right. He offered his arm with a twinkling smile.
They walked through the crisp evening air to the park, chatting about their lives as they went. Martine told her that he had fallen in love with the theatre at a young age. His mother took him to shows while his father worked long hours at the bank. He said that for some time he resented his father's absence, until he began to learn the family business. Meg felt she had very little to tell him in return. She talked about how her mother was a famous ballerina, and she was raised in the Paris Opera. He asked her a great many questions about the infamous fire four years ago.
Conversation dropped away as Martine led her off the walking path and through the trees, to a hidden clearing. A man stood waiting there, blanket draped over his arm. Meg grew uneasy.
“What are we doing here? Who is that man?” She asked, pulling away. Martine chuckled softly, taking the blanket from the stranger.
“He is my valet.” He shook the linen out to spread across the ground. “I though you might enjoy a picnic under the stars.” Relief washed over her as the valet set down a small basket filled with food and two crystal glasses. “After all, I only get to see you at night. I might as well make the best of it.” He took her hand and helped her down onto the sheet before joining. Martine dismissed the valet with a wave and began to unpack the basket, pouring her a generous helping of wine.
“Oh, that is more than enough!” She laughed, pulling her glass away. “I have no head for wine.” He shrugged, a wry half-smile creeping across his lips.
“Well then. I suppose I will have to keep you warm instead.” He taunted. Playfully, she feigned bewildered outrage before re-offering her glass for him to fill. It was only a short time before they were laughing together as they nibbled on fruit and cheese. Meg was surprised that she was genuinely enjoying herself.
“Have you always wanted to follow in your mother's footsteps?” Martine asked as they finished the last of dinner.
She could feel her cheeks begin to warm as the wine took hold. It was all very relaxing. “Actually when I was a little girl, I had the notion to be a chocolatier.”
“Ah, now see? I said to myself 'I bet this girl likes bonbons. They are beautiful on the outside and sweet on the inside...” He reached into the basket and pulled out a box of chocolates. “Just like her.'”
“Oh, you shouldn't have. They must have been terribly expensive.” She said as he handed her the gold-leafed box with an elaborate bow.
“Nonsense. Say the word, and I would buy you an entire Chocolaterie! We could name it M&M's for Martine and Meg. And if you cook anything like you dance, it would be famous all over the world.”
Meg giggled, playfully hitting his shoulder. “Such things you say! Besides, that is a terrible name! It sounds more like a bank firm than a candy shop”
“You can call our imaginary Chocolaterie whatever you like, cherie.” As he spoke, Meg found herself stifling an involuntary yawn. Martine glanced at his pocket watch with a sigh. “But it seems all dreams must come to an end. I should take you back.”
“I'm sorry.” She said through another yawn. “I told you I have no head for wine.” He helped her to her feet, and as soon as she was upright, the alcohol hit her in earnest. She stumbled into his embrace.
“You did not lie!” He teased, sweeping her off her feet and into his arms. “Lucky for you I have my valet waiting just around the corner.” He bore her dutifully to his carriage and placed her safely inside before going to collect their picnic. Shortly after he took his place beside her and signaled to the driver with a few taps on the ceiling.

* * * * *
The Phantom watched as Meg and her new suitor headed for the opera house. They seemed in good spirits; laughing as they tried to walk wrapped in each others arms. The wealthy young banker was most certainly handsome; but try as he might, the Phantom could not bring himself to be happy for her. At first it had seemed like a godsend. Now as he watched them stride merrily along, it was difficult to see it that way.
Meg playfully shushed the man before tripping over one of his feet with a yelp. He caught her, and for several painful moments, the two gazed into each others eyes. Rage swelled within the Opera Ghost as the little halfwit swooped in and took her mouth with his. The Phantom did his best to regain his composure; but the fury returned two-fold as she wrapped her arms around his neck. Every corner of his mind screamed at him to look away, and yet he could not.
Night after night for a week, the Phantom lurked in the shadows. He could not stand seeing Meg in another's arms, but was unable to look away. Never had he felt such an utter loss of control. Every evening he would decide to stay in the comfort of his lair; and yet he would find himself watching for her return, subjected to the torture of the couple's affections. Their glowing happiness only fueled the fires of his private hell.

* * * * *
“I have a treat for you.” Martine said as they strolled through the park. It was Sunday, the one day the opera did not play. Meg marveled at the the man of surprises, who'd somehow managed to convinced Madam Giry to let her skip practice. It was wonderful to enjoy the warm sun with good company. “I've gotten us tickets to the Jardin d'Acclimatation.” He boasted, ushering to the high walls that encased a portion of the park. “It is said to hold the most exotic menagerie of beasts the world has ever seen.” Meg smiled with excitement. She had never been to the zoo, despite its close proximity. “And from what I hear, there is a new exhibit which I think you will quite enjoy. It has kept them sold out for weeks. But nothing is unobtainable when it comes to my angel.” He said, stroking her cheek.
They made their way through the gate and were soon immersed in countless exhibits from distant lands. For hours they marveled together at different animals wandering in scenes of their own habitat. There were bears of every shape and color, lions, badgers, enormous snakes, tigers, and even a giant bird with a very long neck.
“That is called an ostrich. It comes from the far east, where desert sands stretch as far as the eye can see.” Meg's mind flitted back to the time below the opera house when she'd heard Erik play his violin for the very first time. The music moved her even now. Suddenly the animals held far less appeal.
“Are you alright?” Martine asked, shaking her from her thoughts. When she glanced to him, a tear forged its path down her cheek.
“I'm fine.” She lied. “This is wonderful. Thank you.”
“But wait. We still haven't seen the new exhibit!” He enthused, taking her hand. “Come!” Deftly Martine cut his way through the crowd that had formed around one of the cages; managing to secure them a spot right next to the bars. He pulled her in front of him, holding her by the waist.
She peered inside to find several huts. A number of dark-skinned people wandered around inside, adorned in little more than scraps of fabric tied about their hips. A few of them wore headdresses and necklaces made of what appeared to be claws. Some of them would occasionally glance at the crowd with sad eyes before going about their business. The women wore no corsets or chemises, their breasts swinging freely as they moved. Meg watched with mortification as a tiny ebony boy ran up to accept a cookie that a Frenchwoman offered him through the bars. One of the young girls in the tribe snatched him away as he reached for it, and began scorning him in a strange tongue.
“The plaque says that this is the Melanesian exhibit.” Martine chimed in over her shoulder. “My goodness, this is extraordinary! Look at their dark skin! How peculiar.” Meg watched in horror as the crowd gaped, pointing and musing at these people in the cage. Her mother's voice from years ago whispered in her head. It told the story of a poor child who was imprisoned, mocked and beaten in a gypsy carnival for the way he looked.
She could take no more.
In an instant she had torn through the crowd, putting herself far away from the loathsome spectacle. It took Martine only moments to follow suit. “What's wrong?” He asked.
“That!” She shouted. “Those are people! Real people!”
He looked at her with confusion. “They are nothing but savages... hardly more evolved than monkeys.”
She shook her head violently, unable to speak.
“It's alright.” He assured her. “Their brains are far less capable than ours. They probably think they are still in their native land. And when the exhibit ends they are sent back; no harm done.”
It took a while before she could find the words to express her dismay. “Are we so ill evolved that we think it is alright to steal them from their homeland? To point and laugh at them? You cannot tell me that you do not see humanity in their eyes!” She turned away, trying to drive the image out of her mind.
Martine wrapped his arms around her shoulders, whispering apologetically in her ear. “I'm sorry, I did not mean to disturb you. This is supposed to be a fun excursion. Let us find something more pleasant to enjoy.”
Meg let him lead her through and out of the crowd, following him to a large building that stood on its own. She stepped inside to find that all the walls were made of glass. Behind them where huge pools of water. It was as if they had walked into the sea. Schools of fish swam behind the glass in an amazing display of coral and long strings of water plants. The shock of what she had just seen began to fade away, replaced with an awe of her new surroundings.
“This is the aquarium.” Martine informed her. “Isn't it wonderful?”
“Yes.” She sighed, stepping closer to look at a beautifully colored fish. “This is amazing.” He came up to stroke a hand over her hair. For several minutes they remained in silence and simply watched the activity around them. After a while he bent down and pointed over her shoulder to a radiant orange and white fish hiding in a moving pink plant.
“That is you. Breathtaking and elusive.” She smiled up at him.
“Oh? And which one are you?” She asked.
Biting his cheek, he searched the tank until finally pointing to the shark that swam in the depths.
“I am that one... because I want to devour you!” He said, nipping playfully at her neck. They watched for a while longer before he pulled her away from the glass. “I have another gift for you.” He announced. “I was hoping you would do me the honor of wearing it.” Out of his pocket he produced a small velvet box.
She eyed it with a terrible suspicion, praying that it was not what she thought. Moments like these should be happy ones; and yet in one clarifying moment, she realized this was not where she wanted to be.
Her hand moved to her throat as he opened the box.
The lid flipped up to reveal a delicate hair ribbon spun of thin golden strands. The expensive cord was accented with tiny crystals that sparkled with every movement of the water around them.
“It was the only thing I could find that might pay homage to your radiant hair. I would love to see you wear it on stage.” She breathed a sigh of relief as he removed it from its encasement; turning to let him place it in her hair.
“It is absolutely beautiful.” Meg did her best to give him a warm smile. “I do not deserve such a gift.”
“No price is too high for your love.” He cooed, and yet all she could think about was returning to the safety of the opera house.
“You overwhelm me with your generosity.” She insisted, placing a hand on her stomach in feigned distress. “ I feel a bit faint.”
As always, he was the perfect gentleman. He whisked her off to his carriage and escorted her home; doting on her the entire way. She couldn't help the feeling of guilt that overcame her on the journey. Here was a man that would give anything. And all she wanted was for him to deliver her to the man that would toss her aside.
* * * * * * *
I would like to mention that the concept of the "human zoo" is not mine, and is in fact 100% true. I have described it as accurately as the sparce records afford. All I did was fudge the numbers by about 3 years. I had no idea such a thing existed before writing this chapter. When I first read about it, I nearly laughed it off. I thought someone had been messing with the wiki. To my horror, this was not the case. In 1877, Paris saw their first human "exhibit" in the Jardin d'Acclimatation, which sat on the second largest park in the city. These shows remained wildly popular all the way until the 1930's. So as ludicrous as the notion may seem, it is merely proof that truth is often stranger and more terrible than fiction.
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Phoenix