REVISION I reput this up after checking it over. JUST A QUICK REMINDER This is when Christine and Meg are fifteen, the Phantom twenty. After setting the scene and developing the connection I'l skip ahead to the PotO timeline...has anyone else noticed that when writing PotO that way its almost like PotC? (Pirates of the Carribean?) OH! The Phantom as a PIRATE!

What I would give to plunder THAT booty.

DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING!

Authors note: I saw PotO For the second time today and I noticed how much Meg has to do with him. Always screaming and gasping and moaning his name... oh well. not the latter I guess, but she does scream a lot. While watching Eriks face after Christine kissed him I tried to figure out how to make it happy tears he cried istead. I found it! Wohoo!

Oh yea, I dont have spell check...bear with me. Also too imapatien for betas.

Meg Giry wasn't a bad girl. By every means the contrary, in fact. She was a very good girl. But sometimes it seemed, while listening to Christine sing to her Angel at the back of the ballet routine's group, she had rather un-good girlish thoughts. Like how juvinial Christine was, how stuck up she appeared to be, and wondering if Christine was 'all right' in the head. She was so innocent sometimes, like she was still a child of twelve when she was a girl of fifteen. Meg had heard of illness's like that, a person still a child in their mind. Maybe Christine contracted it after her father died. Sometimes hardship like that could do something to people. Scar them on the inside.

Those were also thoughts she shouldn't be having. Not that they were bad, but, as her mother said, too insightful for Meg to be having. Meg saw people as they were meant to be seen, emotional scars and all. Like the solemn Lisa, another ballarina-in-training. Her fiance was killed three years ago and Lisa raped by the three men that did it. An ugly stain covered her being, invisable to the eye. It was red-brown, with small purple spots, like a bruise. As if she blamed herself for the murder and her raped. Meg truly pitied her. Gretchin on the other had was no one to be pitied. Hers was bright blue, bold fierce red in it. No idescision of purple or shades or tints of the blue and red. Gretchin had done something terrible, planned and went through with something that Meg didn't want to find out.

Madam Giry (She insisted to be called, even by her daughter) finished the act and sent them on their ways. Meg was sure her mother had stains, scars marring her, but Madam Giry refused to let them out for a second. Meg watched the group scamper off, her mother-in-question watching Christine Daae practically run away, her face drawn in shadow and sadness. Then it was gone, as Christine's skirts cleared the corner. Madam Giry gave Meg a nod, before limping back to the room.

Meg didn't bother to follow Christine. She had begged her after her first months here not to watch her as she prayed for her father. Meg guessed somethings were too personal. Not that she was jealous... oh Hell. She was jealous. Meg looked around quickly, as if someone could read the un-lady like curse in her mind. She giggled to find no one. Meg realized she had wandered away from the main back-stage was was now continuing into the unused places of the Opera Populair. After a moment of indecision she continued. There was nothing down here except spiders, rat and the occasional snake.

And birds, Meg added watching an owl swoop by. It did a quick about-face and snatched up a rat. Meg saluted the Owl, which stared at her for a moment.

"That you for your studious attentions. I rather dislike rats." Meg said cheerfully to the barn owl. He gave a screechy noice and dissapeared. "So much for gratitude."

The first door she took led to a corridor, lined with cob-webs and unlit candelbras. Meg took it, her mind slipping over one subject to another with ease, solving a problem here, fixing a cunnundrum there. The second door led to a crawl space, Meg slipped to her hands and knees, going over costume designs in her head. This was probably why she didn't notice the weakened floor-boards until she fell through them. With a scream that came out an undignified squeal, she fell. Two more small floors gave way beneath her slight weight before she stopped.

Breath knocked out of her, covering in dust and spider-webs, knee skinned, bruised, cut, bleeding and splintered she first lay eyes on the Phantom of the Opera.

If she'd have been able to scream she would have. Luckily her breath was still two floors up. Even more fortunate she didn't scream her way down and the trip was surprisingly quiet. She saw him through the opening between the two floors, obviously invisable to him. The Phantom, wearing expensive black formals, (coat, vest, ascot, gloves, shiny shoes, rapier, and a long black cloak) was surprisingly comfortable looking. He sat back against the stone, right next to a long mirror looking thing, one knee bent the other straight out. His head was against and a bone-white half-mask covered the right side of his face.

After her breath caught up and calmed down Meg could hear singing. More surprising it was Christine! The child-like voice pierced the air sweetly, shocking Meg more. Meg's own voice was huskier, ever since three years ago when she was twelve. She had to strain her voice to get a sweet falsetto that everyone craved from woman. Afterward she felt dirty, not using her own voice.

Meg almost fell over when the Phantom began to sing. His voice, try as he might, was still dark and rich and exotic as the chocolate Mother had gotten for her from Paris. He kept it light and soft to disguise the dark beauty. Then it came to her.

Christine's Angel Of Music! It was the Phantom! She used the excused to pray for her father to sing with her Angel! Oh! Christine must be so innocent to believe that that voice was that of an Angel. A fallen angel maybe. A dark seductive demon sent to seduce woman's souls right from their willing

bodies-

Okay. She really had to stop reading those penny-novels from the bookshop.

They continued to sing for about ten minutes more, before the Phantom said goodnight. Unbidden a shiver went through Megs body. Not at all caused by the cold stone at her thighs. He rose, tall and strong, stretched and smiled before walking down the hidden passage.

Meg wasn't going to follow him. Nope. Not at all. Why follow one of the Opera's most mystic secrets?

Then again, the only way back would be to go through the mirror-looking thing. And Christine might be there. It would be cruel to ruin Christine's delusions now, wouldn't it?

Concious reassured, or at least temporarily pacified, Meg found she could crawl along the wall until it came to a certain point where she could stand. Keeping the Phantom at least five-feet in front of her, Meg made her way down. He went out a door onto a huge set of spiral stairs. Meg waited for five minutes, anxiously shifting from one foot to another, until she was sure he was passed. Then she came out. She watched him move oddly. Left and right, weaving in a pattern that had no rhyme, no pattern to the pattern. After he was out of sight she causously stepped down with one foot-

-only to jerk it back up as the floor fell from beneath her ballet-slippered toes.

There was no way she could figure this out! The Phantom's own footsteps were assured, he must have mapped this out over the years. Going up would be a problem as well, and the door to the passage was blocked!

"Damn!" Meg hissed, deeming the situation bad enough for the forbidden word. It seemed to work, as it made her bolder, more confident. She looked at the hand-rail to the stairs in a new light. It was a good two feet of stone wide, obviously solid, (The phantom held on all the way down) and it might work. It was better then nothing.

Meg suddenly remembered she was still in costume. Which included a small two foot square cape!Undoing the button, Meg set it on the stairrail, settled in, lifted the front. The cape being silk made the slide easiter, faster, if a bit more nerve racking. Heart in her throat Meg slowly relaxed, then tension in her changing from fear to exhileration. She was going fast as a horse at full gallop! An insane smile that reminded her of how a cheshire cat (From her favorite stories) smiled lit her face and spiraled down and down and down...

-Wait a minute. When did this thing actually end? What if he used another passage, one she passed? Meg despretly tried to look back. studyign the walls. Was that one? If she lost him she could wander around the catacombs forever. People had been found crazy, half alive after weeks of being lost. Meg felt icy terror fill her, so busy studying the scenery that she didn't notice the abrupt change.

Mainly being the end of the stairs.

Meg went flying, twisting and landing on her fifteen year old backside with an 'Oof'. Screwing her eyes up in pain, Meg bit her lip and tried to stop herself for crying out. A cold touch under her chin brought her face to look-

- At her prey. And suddenly Meg felt like that mouse the great big scary owl ate. The Phantom raising his visable brow used the cane to turn her face more toward him. He smiled slightly.

"I had thought it would be Joseph, he's getting to be rather nosy. But no... Madam Giry's daughter? What brings you to the Phantom's lair?" His voice (Oh dear lord that voice) mocked her.

"I-I-I-"

"You, you, you...?" He encouraged, smirking at her fear.

"I-I was wandering. Fell. Saw you walking away." She let out a nervous laugh. "-guess I was curious."

"Indeed." He slowly tilted his head to the side, appraising her. Then- "Your Christine's friend, arn't you?"

"Sometimes." Meg replied, moistening her lips.

"I thought it was more then sometimes." He removed the cane and leaned indulgently on it. As if she were a little girl and he a man grown who already knew all the answers.

"Well it is...most of the time." Meg swallowed, when suddenly it burst out- "Sometimes shes blank... like a doll. A blank canvas and no matter what color you use its all white. It scares me sometimes then I think..."

"Yes?" he leaned forward, as if intreaged. Meg realized that was a decidedly good thing, she obviously wasn't dead yet, so she continued.

"That shes not really growing up. Sometimes it seems like she's not real." Meg swallowed again and asked herself, hysterically almost, what she thought she was doing.

Telling the Phantom of the Opera about my worries about Christine's realness, what else?

Good. Just checking.

"It seems so, sometimes." He said almost as if to himself. Then reached down and offered her a hand. Meg took it unquestioning, and he helped her up. Megs gaze was drawn the the beautiful paintings and sketches that adorned the walls of his corridor. Most of them were of ballet, some practising, some of the shows and all were extrodinaryily beautiful. Most were signed at the bottom, 'Erik'.

"Curiouser and Curiouser." She whispered, letting her hand glide over the obviously recent portraits.

"Deeper into the rabbit hole, Alice? Or would you rather-" The Phantom pushed a passage open and cocked his head "-follow the breadcrumbs home?"

Meg bit her lip. Then she walked toward the passage.

:To Be Continued

(JUST KIDDING! Gotcha! I wonder if some people pushed back without scrolling down all the way. Oh well. Their loss.)

'Can't believe it' Meg thought furiously. 'Can't believe Im following a ghost down deeper into the vaults of an Opera House.'

"Ah!" Meg yelped, slipping on a wet patch. The Phantom's leather clad hand stopped her fall (The third one in the past two hours thank-you-very-much) and steadied her. Meg blushed a little, grateful for the darkness. He chuckled, the sound practically vibrating as if he knew her thoughts. Damn the stupid Mind-reading Phantom. Meg wrinkled her nose and thought nasty thoughts at him. He didn't break stride, but better safe than sorry.

(PotO POV)

'Can't believe the little snippet actually came!' Erik thought, pushing a few cobwebs out of his way. He had forgone the torch in favor of a more speedy trip. A yelp sounded and only his quick reflexes kept the poor chit from landing flat on her pert bottom. From the look of her it wouldn't be the first time today. Eric chuckled at that. The girl stiffened, thinking his laughed was at her expense... Well... It was, wasn't it? He kept an unreasonably possesive grip on her elbow, bringing her closer to his side. Madam Giry would skin him alive it anything happened to her Nutmeg.

"Here." Erik put his hands on her waist, noting the shiver (Which wasn't of disgust) and lifted her acrossed a small river to the other side. There was another route, one by boat, but he didn't want to put in the effort.

"Thank you." Was that his overactive post teen imagination (He was only just twenty) or was her voice huskier than normal? He resumed his grip on her elbow, now out of habit.

"Here we are, as deep as the rabbit hole is open to you, Alice. At least for today " He said as they entered a dry room. His pipe-organ dominated one side of the room (One of five he had all together) two desks and misallanious chairs and cusions, all half covered with half-done sketches, fully donw designs, and sheets and sheets of music. Meg moved slowly away from him, eyes trying and failing to see all there was to see in the shortest time possible.

Erik found a seat at the organ, watching her through slitted eyes as she read and looked over his work. It was all safe things, archetype designs he was done with, pre-Christine music. None of the slow seductive sensual notes that poured out of his being now. She paused over this and that, setting somethings aside for closer inspection later. She traced the lines on his sketches, smiling or frowning at this and that. Actually laughing at a litlle doodle of her mother glaring out of the picture, soaking wet.

"I remember this! That was when we dumped the bowl on Carlotta but she moved and Madam Giry got in the way!" Meg exclaimed. Her voice... Erik turned to the organ and played a small ditty that he wrote about Meg when she was fourteen and she kissed a stable-lad in the balcony seats, then punched him. The notes were perfect for her voice at the time, and she hadn't changed, he would have noticed... Her voice was much lower now, the husky tone peeking out earlier come in full bloom.

"Your voice..." Erik said, slightly confused. Meg bit her lip before shrugging.

"Cats outta the bag." She said with forced casualness. "I talk and sing higher to fit in with the supranos more. My voice is too low for most of the chorus."

"Indeed?" Erik pursed his lips and turned to the organ, playing the scale.

"What?" Meg asked warily. He pierced her with supremly over-perceptive eyes.

"Sing for me."

To be continued (For real this time. Im so tired!)

PLEASE READ ! IMPORTANT! DON"T YOU SCROLL DOWN! LISTEN TO THE CAPS LOCK AND OBEY! Thank you Anounomous! I forgot about the K thing. Anyway, About the Disney thing, I'm trying to put references into as many disney or other movies as I can, just as an extra challenge. It seems my muse has fosaken me, so I had to hunt for a new one and this one didn't want me to continue with the 'Younger generation' Possibly I might go back and add later, or restart a new story, but never fear! I intend to keep this one up, only now we'll use the Awesome powers of the Autherness and skip ahead to right after 'Think of Me'

DISCLAIMER:As always Hollilia incorperated does not own anything except dirty fantasies about Jareth, Spike, Erik, Jason Isaacs, johnny Depp, Jack Sparrow- Lets just cut to the chase. If not we may be here forever.

(Basically what has happened over the past four years is that Meg has been also taking lessons, but with the Phantom and no odd delusions about freakin angels and music. Erik has yet to show her his face, but doesn't try to be anything else than the dark seductive creature he is around her. He also didn't mention outright his love for Christine, and Meg has realized she was in Love with him ages ago, but desides to be a martyr and not tell him. Mainly fearing he would laugh, scoff and/or never let her see him again. She isn't dense though and she does notice his feelings for Christine. He also has let her see his new music and helps her with her dance lessons! I'll even tell you one of the sex scenes. Its when Erik is showing her the dance solo she's supposed to do for Don Jaun. Will there be one before that? Well... you'll just have to read wont you?)

Meg couldn't wait to tell Erik. She had performed her ballet so well her mother had actually told her she did good! All she ever used to get from her mother was a pat on the head and a condiscending lecture! Practically skipping down the conplicated pattern of steps, Meg found her way to the first chamber. It was a 'Throne to Music' or thats what Erik called it. He wasn't in any of the rooms, even though Meg called to him. Frowning she decided to wait for him.

Meg awoke half an hour later to...singing? The Phantom's luscious baritone mixing with-

Good god!

Meg leapt off the Organ she was dozing on and hid under the tablecloth. Erik and Christine were singing a duet, coasting down the flooded chambers in the boat Erik had previously told her was broken. Meg was awed and not just a little intimidated by their combined voices. It was insane how they became one, almost as if their voices were made for one another. Meg knew Erik loved Christine, but soulmates?

Her entire world shattered before her eyes as Erik showed Christine the manniqan. Knowing him as she did, Meg immediantly saw this as his proposal for Marraige, which it was. Christine fainted, probably because Erik's magic (Which astounded Meg when she first met him) was potent enough when he was just physically present. Singing and emotion took it higher. He lifted her off her feet and onto a swan bed covered in crushed red velvet, pulling a cord to allow the black lace curtains to drift down. He strode toward her, sitting on the seat directly in front of Meg.

"What are you doing here?" He asked quietly. Meg steeled herself to keep from crying and put an innocent mask on her face. She then slid out and shrugged.

"I did very well on my ballet solo, even though it was small. I came to tell you mother actually aplauded me." Meg gave him a forced smile and turned to walk away. "I can see your busy, I'll come back later. "

"Wait-" Erik held her wrist and Meg tried to ignore the frission of heat the movement created. She plastered a blank expression on her face and turned.

"Yes?"

"We need to work on your aria. The one from The Goblin Ball MADE UP OPERA THAT SUPPOSEDLY HE CREATED

"Actually, I have got a lot to do, maybe tommarow." Meg tugged her hand to get it back, but Erik just stood.

"I will not lose you over this." He said sternly. A bubble of hope rose in her mind "Your friendship means the world to me."

POP The bubble burst into ragged glass shards. Meg couldn't hold in the half-hysterical laugh.

"Okay, you wont." She meant it. Even if she never saw him again he would always be her dearest friend. Because that would always be all he let her be to him.

"Meg." He said warningly. Meg turned to face him and found herself not two inches from the famous mask of white. They froze. Throughout their friendship there had been moments like this. When sexual tension would frazzle her nerves, when his frustrations with the lack of physical relationship and they would be caught in time like this, so close to losing everything.

She couldn't help it. She may be a fool. A stupid naive fool, but she would not let this moment be lost in muffled apologies and akward silences after their gaze was broken. It was a simple matter to make the brush of their lips seem innocent, a mistep on her part, a accident on his.

There was nothing simple about what happened next.

They weren't sure who moved first but suddenly Megs arms were around his neck, his around her waist, her body crushed to his, their lips melded and there was no place she would rather be. The kiss was wild, no innocence, no regrets, just a passionate melding of two people, one so lost to his obsession he couldn't find himself, the other so lost to her insecuirity she didnt want to. They couldn't get close enough, couldn't touch enough, couldn't feel enough. There was music in their ears, crescendoing, rising falling with their gasped breaths, their labored moans.

Erik lifted her onto his organ Okay sorry for the interuption, but Im talking about the piano! PIANO! Gutter-minded bastards ;) , luckily the cover was down,LOL HYSTERICALLY and pulled her legs around his hips. He moved toward her, her breathy gasp urging him to move closer, shift his hips into the apex of her thighs, feast on her neck. Her husky pleas were the sweetest music he heard, his thrumming heartbeat providing a faster rythem. It was excuisite, her warm, lush, nubile body pressed to his, ample bosom crushed to his chest. Erik slid his hands to the flare of her hips, moving them in tune with his. Their gazes locked as his hand wound in her hair, his lips returning to hers to plunder the treasure there.

A soft sigh echoed through the room with the effect of thunder. The pair jerked apart, Erik still holding her hair with one hand and... wait a minute. How did his hand slip under her shirt to take such a possesive hold on her...? Meg looked over to see Christine stir, stretching with catlike grace. She paniced and within seconds was running up the stairs, only saving herself from falling into a trap by the ingrained pattern Erik had taught her ages ago.

He watched a little dazedly as the willing blonde beauty took off, her lips bee-stung from his kisses, her face flushed form pleasure that HE gave her. Erik wondered why she ran and what would be the easiest way to catch her when another sigh came from the room beyond.

Unfaithful love! How could he have forgotten Christine! She merely shifted in her sleep, but Erik sank down onto the chair. What had come over him? He would have taken Meg right here, in the mmidst of his seduction of Christine. Had he sunk so low in his monstrocity that he could forsake his one and only true love? A couple notes wafted to him and he turned to see Christine watching him. He moved his gaze back to his work, unable to look at her.

Soft warm hands touched his face, caressing and he closed his eyes and saw...

Meg.

Suddenly his face felt cold and the Meg in his mind cringed with Horror.

"Oh it was terrible Meg! He was a beast, a monster, and not just his face! His temper. I thought I would be devoured right then and there by it!" Christin sobbed into Meg's shoulder. Meg did her best to calm her, inwardly seething. How dare Christine even assume to take off Erik's mask. Had the girl no sense of decorum, no decency? If a man wears a mask he wants to hide his face. Who was she to deny him that?

"Its alright." was all Meg could say, before Madam Giry came into the room and swept Christine away. Her Mother gave Meg a stern look, as if to say Speak-of-this-to-no-one. Like she would. Meg turned and headed toward the costume manager, to see about her maid's outfit. She was supposed to do a fitting. She walked down the corridor that led to the boxes, going over what Christine said in her mind.

If Erik was disfigured, that would explain his loathing for society. It was uncommon to be born with a defect and live beyond the age of two. If your parents and village didn't kill you, usually nature did. Any who did live were freaks, sentenced to forever be sideshow amusment for 'normal people'. Meg wished with all her soul that Eric had not been subject to the whims of cruelty for long. He was such a stong man, but his emotions were very topsy-turvy. Mood swings some might say, the littlest thing could set him off.

With a yelp she was uncerimoniously jerked into a curtianed-over aclove and pressed against the wall. She opened her mouth to scream, and then realized she knew the body.

"Erik!" She whispered, looking up at him. Erik sneered at her, causing her confusion.

"Did she tell you? Describe me in all my 'glory'?" Erik snarled, fingers bruising on her arms. Meg looked shocked. "Did she? Of course she did. Spilt her weeping heart for you. Crying into your arms about the demon that stole her from her bed. "

"Erik!" Meg shifted her arms. "Your hurting me."

"Isnt that what demons do? What monsters do? Im only obeying my nature!" He growled, before capturing her mouth. His teeth tore into her lip, casing to to bleed at he ravaged her. A shaking hand was lifted to cup her heaving breast, another to caress her bottom. His minstrations slowed, becoming more of passion and less of loathing and Meg couldn't help but respond. With a gaspy moan she lifted herself on her toes and pressed herself deeper into his arms, obeying his command to lift her leg onto his hip when he slid his hand under it.

Erik let out a shaky groan. She felt so right in his arms. Impossibly right. Flicking his thumb over her nipple, he caught her gasp of pleasure with his kiss, then began moving his hips thrustingly against hers. With every slight shift she moaned and cried out softly into his mouth, muffled cries of ecstacy. Her heat burned through the clothes and on instinct he slipped his hand from its death-grip on her thigh to the waist band of her breeches.

Erik was not virgin, in fact, he had many woman. In the darknest of night, the highest paid corteasans taught him all he could do with his love and he used that knoledge to his advantage now. Blunt piano fingers slipped passed her undergarments, to the flower of her fememninity. She was wet, his fingers sliding in easily. Hot and tight, the pearl of her pleasure budding against his eager fingers. He played her like an insterment, and the Phantom of the Opera was a VERY good musician. One particularly loud cry of intense pleasure sounded as he twisted and bent artful digits inside of her.

Erik watched her through a hazy of lust, her head thrown back, golden curls tumbling down, smooth column of her neck bared to him, bountiful breasts casped in one hand, also adding to the pleasure. Her rosy lips were parted, her eyes closed. His erection was pressed painfully against his breeches, he had to have some relief, his mind thought frantically. Pleasuring Meg was killing him in the most delectable way.

"Meg." He whispered huskily. She met his eyes with blue-grey ones clouded with pleasure. She was near to her peak, feeling wave upon wave build up to something she couldn't name. she would have done anything to reach that edge. He used his unoccupied hand to bring hers down the the shaft of him. Meg was still a virgin, he could feel that in her tightness, but he knew living in an Opera house, no the most reputible place, would have at least prepared her for this by word of mouth.

Wonderful sensation began, her lean fingers playing gently over him, softly at first, until she realized the fast she moved the faster HE moved, or at least his hand. She conquered the clasp to his breeches, pulling his length out and taking it completly in her hand. Erik let out a cry as she moved him out, anything she did brought color to his closed eyes, so intense the ecstacy, the sheer feeling. They moved together, eyes locking as they fell over the edge, Erik with a soft moan and Meg with a sharp keen cry.

Laguidly Erik straightened his clothes and hers, holding her to him as she came down. Her hair tousled, her eyes dulled with pleasure she focased on him. Erik found himself yet again realizing his mistake, but instead of immediently pulling away from the temptress, he found himself pressing a kiss to her forehead and dissappearing.

When Meg caught her breath she finished cleaning herself up and walked on shaky legs out of the aclove. She didn't know what game Erik was palying, but she knew it was extremly dangerous and with a heavy heart she also knew his feelings hadn't changed. She walked a little ways.

"Whore."

"What!" Meg turned to see Joseph leaning against a post behind her, directly acrossed from the aclove where she had just exited.

"I heard you in there. I don't know who you wer with, but hows about another go? Surly one man can't satisfy one such as you?" Joseph came closer, making a grab for her large breasts. Meg moved away shocked.

"Get away from me Sir. I don't know what your speaking of. " She said sternly, trying to imitate her mother. Joseph scoffed, licking his dirty lips and crudly grabbing himself

"Oh don't be such a priss. Cummon Missy. Lets have a little fun." Joseph reached out to grab her again, right where Erik had left bruises from his emotion. The pain was sharp and Meg cried out as he pulled her to his fat dirty body.

"Let me go!" She cried, twisting and trying to break free. Joseph only laughed and began groping her bottom and breasts, leaving painful bruises and ignoring her weeping.

Without warning a roar filled the corridor. Joseph backed off, but kept a hand on her arm. Out of no where Erik appeared, dark eyes wild with rage. He practically threw Joseph acrossed the hall growling and snarling like a lion king. He unsheathed his rapier and had every intention of slicing Joseph to ribbons when he heard the weeping. Meg was curled up, hugging her body close. His distraction let Joseph escape, but right now Erik didn't care. He bent down and gently lifted the girl in his arms, bringing her with him to his rooms.

The Phantom of the Opera pacified his rage with a promise that night. Joseph Bouq'e would die, and he would be the one to wrap the rope around his neck.

AN: Hello all, miss me? I know some of you are only trying to help, but Im gonna say this one more time. I have a wordpad, and no spellchecker. Nada. Zip. My Spell checker is null and void. I know your just offering constructive critism, but cummon, three or four people in a row join together and become destructive. I'll review my work and try harder, but thats about all I can do until I find a beta.

I make stupid mistakes, but cummon, I'm no super-genius archetect, organ-playing musician like SOME people I could speak of...

COUGH COUGH ERIK COUGH COUGH

Oh yea, I just figured out something! Gerard Butler Waits for the screaming fangirls to stop their high-pitched screeching Thank you. Anyway, I figured out that my FAVORITE Dracula (I disclaim by the way.) actor is guess who! GERARD BUTLER! I actually screamed. So now my fantasies of Dracula are filled with that GLORIOUS VOICE! Quickly dies of happiness, liquifying into a puddle on the floor.

"Did I not instruct that this chapter should be done by five?"

Hollilia suddenly reforms into solid mass and stares about wild-eyed

"Actually, I kinda forgot to give her the letter." Madam Giry says, appearing out of nowhere-ness (Where author notes come from by the by)

"Oh, well then. I want this Chapter done by five" The phantom appears and gives the girl a seductive once over (I mean seriously, can he do anything nonseductive? Its perfectly impossible) Hollilia trembles as he dissappears taking Madam Giry with him.

Well Stands shakily and dusts herself off Nothing like a visit from the sexiest guy in the Screen to get you moving.

"What about us?" Dracula and Spike say together. Hollilia melts.

And now, on with the Show!

The Phantom was shirtless.

Oh my.

There he was, on his back, in a COFFIN no less. Half-naked. Oh my. I mean who sleeps in a coffin? Meg asked herself. With that lucious tanned skin all open and exposed and... Meg! Control yourself! Again she questioned the coffin. Like a seductive vampire out for nubile young woman's blood. Bend you back, bare your neck and slip silky fangs deep inside and-

-really got to stop reading those penny-novels. She took in a shaky breath and slowly stepped away. She woke up to find herself in a bedroom, her body covered in a deliciously soft cotton feather down quilt (Sorry, but the swan bed is soooooo cheesy) and went to find Erik. But he was sleeping so...

"Your awake." The statment was husky from sleep and Meg barely controlled her trembling. His VOICE. It always took her by surprise. Like that first taste of whiskey. After a while you got used to it but if you took a break it hit you like a ton of bricks in the next sip.

"Yes." Meg watched him hungrily as he turned away to slip on a ruffled shirt. The waist coat quickly followed, but unfortunatly for her he decided against the full ensemble. The more layers between her and that Adonis body the better, she thought. He turned back, and for the first time Meg studied the mask. He never took it off. But that vein of thought brought to mind Christine, her terrible actions of the other night and the fact that Erik loved her even more for it. Which brought to mind what HE did after Christine came home.

Meg trembled, remembering the all consuming pleasure of that wanton act.

"Your cold." He stated, blissfully unaware of her train of thought. Meg nodded. Erik brought a quilted silk (yes, there is such a thing, I've seen it) kimono-like robe and started toward her. The first touch of his ungloved hand on her skin caused her to gasp. He quickly release the profered robe and turned away.

"I'm sorry-" She began but her made a quick angry slicing motion with his hand, still turned away.

"No, its my fault. Had I been in control that Bastard would never have made you shy away from any man's touch" Erik cut in, his voice thick with anger. Meg opened her mouth to tell him it was his overwhelming carnal appeal that made her jump, not disgust or fear, but thought better of it. If he would stop their downward spiral of madness with his completly mistaken thoughts than possibly she might escape from this unrequited love with at least a modicum of sanity and possibly her soul. She took the robe and slipped it on, the cool layers warming and helping her retain heat in the less-than-summery temperature to his caves.

"Erik...Can I go home?" She asked in a small voice. Joseph's actions could rend and tear her body, but the time she spent with Erik would rape her soul.

-(This loopy thing is what I made up to signify my laziness! Either a POV change or just the speeding up of a few hours when I can't write anymore in a perticular situations. Behold my all consuming laziness. I SAID BEHOLD!)

(By the by, this is during the Poor fool he makes me laugh Songy thing. )

Erik watched from above, angry at the managers for ignoring his demands, furious at Christine for not forcing the issue and completly raging as the main Alto pinched Meg's bottom for real. He noticed, with relief, that Piangi refrained from groping Christine. When He went for Meg again Erik could not stop himself.

"Did I not instruct, that box five be left empty for me?" He asked, throwing his voice around the room. Their were gasps, Christine got an odd look on her face as Meg went white and held onto her arm. Why was she so afraid of him?

"Its him." Christine whispered and Erik realized the usually naive Christine had put two and two together, added an angel, a man and a phantom and figured him out. The fact that it didn't upset him as much as it should was pushed aside as Carlotta began croaking. She must have taken a couple sprays in between. Erik let a malicious smile cross his face as he looked up... to see Joseph staring down at him.

The smile grew to a grotesque travesty of a smirk as his eyes turned to ice. Time to fulfill a promise he made to himself.

(I'll spare you the details for you who havn't seen PotO the movie, shame on you, Joseph gets hanged)

Meg didn't need to know what happened. The glow on both Christines and the handsome Rauol's face spoke plainly. Erik knew, for certain. He knew everything. He would be furious.

Meg quickly went to her room. She began throwing things in her pack, dresses and under-things and such. A rather large pocket purse followed and a couple smaller wer hidden in her bodice, skirt and pocket. You never could be too carefull in France.

She certainly knew that Erik would never harm her on purpose, not in his right mind he wouldn't. But Everytime he slipped into that frighteningly seductive abyss, whenever someone displeased him, he was a different creature entirely. The Creature who cause the all-comsuming passion that had terrified Meg. How could one man cause such an explosion of feeling inside-

-how could she let him?

As she frantically pulled the straps acrossed and ran into the hall. Practically running, she came to her mother.

'She knows.' Meg thought, seeing the sadness in her mothers gaze and for the first time seeing the fierce love for the man who took her, then left her and with him had taken her mother's soul. Meg sobbed, shoving past the elder Giry. Was this her fate? To become a shell, used at Erik's whim? To be tossed aside whenever Christine beconed for her Angel?

Madam Giry watched her young daughter run, her steel grey eyes filling with tears, a hand at her throat.

"Do you know what you've done to my baby, Erik?" She soflty asked the shadow that appeared beside her.

"It was her who planted this need inside of me. HER who made me lose control. It will be HER who pays the price for arousing a demon." A voice whispered, filled with hate and self-contempt. Madam Giry raised her eyes and for the first time since she met him, looking into this intense gaze. With the flap of his cloak he dissappeared, unnerved by the raw unexplainable emotion in her eyes. Madam Giry turned back to the hall which her daughter dissappeared down.

"You've made her become me." She whispered, before falling to her knees, waves of emotion choking her throat. Tears fell silently down her face, as she prayed. "May god have mercy on your soul My Nutmeg. As he refused to have on mine."

(Just a note. NO THE PHANTOM IS NOT HER FATHER! I've had a couple people who read this ask me that. Ugh. That was rather sad, at least the ending, but thats about as sad as I get. I try not to get sappy either. True love isn't said with words. what comes next? Well what do you think the Phantom was doing those three months? Chasing Meg all over Europe thats what! where should they go first? Oh yea, Reviews make my fingers go faster. Please review. I know your readin this. I CAN SEE THE HITS READ AND REVIEW PLEASE... I'll send you chocolate covered Erik...)

Hideehodi people-of-the-fan-fic, Miss me? Well, this is new. I went to bed after writing my last chapter and woke up to scan my measly reviews, No help from any of you, except, of course those who review ;) And was suddenly inspired! You do know what that means right? My newish muse wacked me on the head with a 2 by 4! And now I'm full of ideas! And a slight concussion. Oh, by the by, would you like to meet my muse?

Oh Reeeeeeeeeeeeeeeed!

A giant seven and a half foot tall Scottish barbarian with wild red hair and smoldering golden eyes appears. He wears a billowy white poet shirt and tight black breeches with knee-high leather boots and gloves and a humungus sword at his hip, engraved upon its blade 'Merciful Death; how you love your precious prey'. He grins

This is Red. Red? This is my audience.

"Their not much to look at, lass."

Ahem, uh... Wacks Red he doesn't mean that. So... read and review... Oh yea, try to guess my age. Im serious. Kudos to those who do... and the whole 'penny-novel' thing? They've been sent from England, as was their name. They're not native to France. Loopholes! Gotta love them! Oh, yea, before I forget and get flamed.

The places they visit will come from the fictional England in my mind. Unlike other talented writers, I'm not into historical nonsense...I had enough of that in high-school american studies class. So you wont find the places they go on a map, unless you make a brand new map of the world and include them. And if you do that...could you wipe out Greenland? Please? (J/K) No offense to those from Greenland...but we'll make you a new Islandy thing! One without the glacier.

Oh yea, Erik has LOADS of money and a couple titles. Where he got them? Well, you cna't expect him to get such a great tan under the stage lights do you? I guessing the portrayal of Erik in my mind sold somethings (Aka, old props, buried treasure from under the Opera house, some of his archetypal work, some Operas,) No to mention the twenty thousand fracs a month from the manager.

Another plus to being an author! I know normally back then it took ages to get anywhere, but here in this fanfic they get there in a second! (I still need to put in their confrontation, get her home with Erik, and write the play, not to mention the already mentioned 'Don Juan solo-turned-duo' thing.

This authors note is gonna be longer than the actual fanfiction! I forgot to inform you I might give Erik some competition...in the form of a handsome, sweet, charming (Not-quite-as-innocent-as-Raoul) Duke! What do you think? I'll Introduce him in this chapter, but save final judgement for you to decide.

And now... on with the show!

God I love saying that.

(Oh Yes, I discalim any and all references to anything not mine...which is everything!)

Meg stared out the carraige window. It had been three days since she fled from the Opera house. Three days since she saw Erik. Three whole days since she saw anything familiar. She was in England, traveling to a friend's house in the middle of Bracas, a small town aways from London a bit. And she had never felt more lost.

It certainly gave you time to think, these rides. And Meg had thought. A lot. About her mother, her absentee Father, Christine, her fiance', but mostly about Erik. He was never far from her thoughts. Damn him. Meg slammed her hand against the gilded carraige door. Why wouldn't he just leave her alone? He didn't love her, couldn't care for her, and wouldn't even try! Why couldn't he just leave her alone?

-Why couldn't she stop thinking about him?

"My, my, my what has the cat dragged in?" A voice asked dryly as they halted. A shortish busty brunette with auburn streaks in her hair and steel gray eyes raised her eye brows as Meg stumbled out of the carraige. There were circles under her eyes, she was unbearably thin and the steel left the girls gaze.

"Holly" Meg murmurred, before dropping from exaughstion. Holly reached out and caught her, thanks to her days as a wood chopper a year ago, and kept her from becoming a pile of taffeta on the ground.

"Stephanie!" Holly shouted. A ballerina-like figure appeared in the door. Her blue eyes softened and the ash blonde hair was filcked away from her shoulders. Holly nodded sadly. "She's fallen in love."

"Poor girl."

Just a note, yes, that was me, But I'm not in here long, ;)

"-and then they came down the stairs and I just knew, you know? They proclaimed their love for one another and there was no way HE didn't know... So I ran." Meg finished, sipping a cup of fragrant exotic tea. Holly patted her hand comfortingly.

"Would you like me to castrate him?" She asked, only half-jokingly.

"No." Meg gave a little laugh through her tears. "You couldn't get close anyway."

"Just a though, love." Holly replied blithly, grabbing a minni-tart and slipping it to Meg when Stephanie looked away.

"You have any idea what your going to do?" Steph asked, easily stopping Holly's wandering hand from another spoonful of sugar in her tea. Holly pouted.

"I thought, perhaps, stay here?" Meg ventured softly, questioning, pleading.

"No question about it. We wouldn't have it any other way... but are costumes all you have to wear?" Holly curled a lip up in a mock of Scoff.

"No, I have one or two regular dresses..." Meg laughed. Steph shook her head and rung a bell. A tall butler came in a minute later.

"Get a coach ready. We're off to London." Steph said, easily dismissing him.

"Why?" Meg asked bewildered as they slid a mink-fur coat on her.

"To shop, of course." Steph answered as if it were obvious. Holly made a face, slipping into her floor-length leather rather masculine coat.

"I hate shopping."

After a surprisingly terrifying, but amazingly quick drive (Holly took the reigns.) they were there. Holly hopped off the top, assisting the slightly green Meg and the wild-haired Stephanie onto safe ground.

"Told you I could get us here in half the time." She put in proudly, smoothing out her own rats nest. Meg said nothing, holding a hand to her stomach.

"Shut up Holly." Steph made out, before pressing a hand to her lips.

"First stop..." Holly began, looking questioningly at Stephanie.

"Burberta's."

"I hate shopping."

After four hours they were all sitting around a small table, Holly just having come back from dropping off their purchuses in the coach. Meg's head was spinning from the amount of money that had just passed hands, and she was awe-stuct at her new wardrobe.

Twelve long thick satin, silk, velvet dresses, about five corsets, (One wickedly black with matching garters and what Holly called 'fishnets') twenty pairs of gloves, three bonnets, ten what they called plain dresses(Egyption cotton died in greens, blues, reds, yellows, purples with amazing patterns and covered in embriodery) and five shoes. (One pair of Pirate boots that hit the thigh and were only bought on a dare.)Not to mention the tailor-made to-fit-a-woman breeches (Five of those) and about twenty different silk and cotton poet shirts.

"Are we done yet?" Meg asked, a tad bit breathlessly. Their first outfit, a powder blue corsetted dress that fell in graceful fold around her ballarina-like body and uncomfortably (And embarrassingly) pressed her ample bosom into view, was slipped on her immediently. She had rarly worn corsets.

"Oh! Are we?" Holly said, brightening.

"No."

"Damn." Meg and Holly said in unison. Then they giggled.

"Excuse me, My Lady Stephanie?" A voice asked. Meg turned around and her breath caught. A young man, not older than twenty-three, was bowing, bright green eyes focased on her. He had adorably curly hair, and wore a dark blue outfit. Stephanie stood and embraced him, then Holly. Meg followed thier actions, up until the hugging, there she just held out and hand for him to shake.

"Mam'selle" He whispered, locking eyes and pressing a warm kiss to the inside of her gloved palm. Meg bit her lip, then smiled. For the first time, Erik wasn't forefront in her mind and she relaxed.

Holly and Steph noticed the tension was gone from their friend and the gaurded look, even there when they laughed, was less. They smiled and invited their mutual friend for luncheon.

The Phantom of the Opera, watching from a near-by carraige, was less than pleased.

Yea, I know. Im naughty. Anywho... I've decided against the Duke. Although everybody needs a little competition... Erik seems to overreact, doesn't he? Also, its kinda used, the whole two guys trying to get the girl. About that whole Erik against another guy thing... He could win if he tried. I mean, couldn't he have just tried harder to win Christine's heart? If he just, I dunno, took her out to dinner, got her flowers, wooed her with his charisma... It might have been different. Stupid phantoms and their chaos complex. Anywho. I'm kinda all tired of the author note...

I disclaim everything.

On with the show.

The Duke of Lasten asked her for another dance and Meg begged off, only allowed to do so when she laughingly agreed to a dance in a few minutes. She was about ready to collapse, but was happy. Not a I-have-everything-in-the-world-and-I-couldn't-ask-for-more happy, more of a I'm-relativly-content-and-being-treated-nicely-so-Im-gonna-enjoy-it happy. She caught sight of herself in the mirror as she went to sit down.

The dress was deep green silk, with an outer bodice of velvet green. It was off the shoulder, revealing her creamy shoulders and a good deal of the swell of her bosom. It tapered to an point just below her hips, and flared out into alarmingly seductive folds to a small train in the back. The bodice was embroidered with black vines, and her corset's black lace top was visable (Which she was reassured was the latest fasion) Her hair was pulled up in a chigon, with curls of honey blonde caressing her gracefull neck. Her face half covered with a green velvet mask, meant to personify mother nature.

"I've come to collect my dance Mam'selle" The Duke, by name Edward, said, laughingly pulling her to her feet. He was dressed as a Knight-in-shinig-armor.

"I have yet to even begin to rest, my lord." She tried to wheedle out of it, smiling.

"Too bad. I've been deprived of your company for at least three minutes! I find your prescence like a drug. Im happily addicted Im afraid." Edward said blithly, pulled her laughing form onto the dance floor. Meg smiled as they began to dance.

"I don't believe Im familiar with this dance." She said after a minute.

"Its a simple mix between a waltz and a tango." He informed her, dipping the blonde beauty.

"Its a wango?" She asked wryly as he lifted her. Edward tilted his head back and gave a bark of laughter, causing her to smile.

"In a word (literally) Yes." He swept her up, pulling her into the steps. Her feet falling easily into the pattern, she was a ballerina, she descovered she liked the dance. It was formal, without being stuffy, intimate, without being risque. On the final swirl, she was dipped. Coming up, the laughing smile dissappeared from her face when she looked acrossed the ballroom.

There, dressed in the deepest black with the white mask a shock to the backround of his face, was Erik. No, Meg corrected herself. Erik liked her as a friend. Respected her as a performer. This beast was The Phantom. He didn't removed his cloak, instead, used it to his advantage. A couple woman off to the side gasped and fluttered their fans when he smiled at them. The left side of his face was handsome after all. Meg couldn't help the sting of jealousy, but she controlled her gasp and merely gave Edward a smile when he asked if she were okay.

She looked back easily when Edward pulled her into a new position for the next dance. His intense eyes were blazing acrossed the room, locked on the back of Edwards head. He moved them to her and made the unmistakable jerk of his head. He wanted her to come to him. Meg was filled with indecision. Should she go with him, lord knew what awaited her. Should she stay, he might cause a scene, ripping her away from Edward. Then there would be bloodshed, for she knew very well how well Erik could use that blade at his thigh.

Putting on a mask of tiredness, Meg turned to Edward. '

"Could I possibly beg this one off, my lord?" She asked softly. Edward nodde3d, the epitome of concern.

"Of course... And its Edward, my Meg." He smiled down at her, bringing her to a chair nearer to the door.

Sadly the endearment caused little elation. The Phantom had stolen her, spoiled her for anyone. Her eyes filled with tears.

"Meg?" He asked, kneeling beside her. She laughed a little and wiped the tears away with one hand. He handed her a monogrammed 'kerchief. "Here."

"Thank you, Edward. Now go." She shooed him off. "I believe Steph is trying to catch your gaze. "

As soon as he swept the unsuspecting girl into a fox-trot, Meg stood only to be stopped by the hand at her elbow.

"I make no snap decisions Meg, you know that. I'll not be god, I wont judge. Should you need of it, I'll come to our rescue, But remember-" Holly wiped a tear from Meg's eye. "-a week with one you love as much as you do him will break your heart."

"I know-"

"-But... It will give you something to remember him by." Holly gave her a sad smile and Meg wondered why was it that men always seemed to forsake the ones she loved. She nodded, embraced her long-time friend, and walked with at least a small burden lifted from her shoulders. The Phantom lifted his cloak, throwing one half over her shaking shoulders, one lean leather-gloved hand biting into her upper arm.

"We," He whispered huskily into her ear, his voice thick with anger "-need to talk."

Meg's shiver had nothing to do with terror and god damn him he knew it. Erik smirked at her, before pulling her to an ebony carriage.

Erik threw her into the carraige, watching her with hot eyes as she settled herself in. Damn her! She runs away, becomes the goddamned belle of the the ball, makes moon eyes at that English Prat and then sits there like a saint! As if she didn't know that she did something wrong.

"Erik...I'm sorry."

Erik jerked his head to her. Her blue eyes were filling with tears and the beast inside of him calmed every-so-slightly.

"I was frightened. I knew... what Christine did. I knew that you would come to...take your anger out on me like... like you did the last time... and I was terrified." Meg didn't look at him, instead tilting her head back to keep those diamond like tears from falling. She paused, unable to say more due to the lump in her throat. Erik was silent, controling him impulse to pull her into his arms and rock her. Meg was not Christine, she didn't need to be coddled like a child.

He also didn't say anything because she was wrong about the most important thing. He was going to take her, but he had decided that after the aclove incident. It was true, his rage had triggered the reaction to find her and brand her as his and Christine was the cause, but...

His anger was more because, as Christine betrayed him up there on the roof, professing her love to that fop, all he could think about, all that his mind could come up with was one statement that sent him over the edge. The one sentence that scared and enraged him more than anything else could.

All he could think, was... Meg would never do this to me, she loves me too much.

Erik lifted her out of the carraige, his hands caressing her hips a bit too long than was absolutly nessesary, but it got the point acrossed clear enough. Her heart hammering in chest, Meg raised her eyes to his and read the intent there.

Tonight would be the night she would become his.

Tonight, she would lay witht he Phantom of the opera.