That Face in the Mask
Chapter One: Whose is This Mask?
Author's Note: Hello! Well, I wanted to take a break from writing for awhile, but, it proved to be way too much of an addicting hobby, and I'm hooked, so, I'm baaaaccckkk! Finally, this is the E/M romance I have been ranting about and working on since August of 2005. (It took me quite a while ;)Anyways, thanks for clicking on this story, and please excuse my lunatic ramblings and spelling/grammatical errors in this story.
This story is basically just going to be an Erik/Meg romance. I really love Erik/Meg pairings, because they're so interesting and let you use your imagination. So, this story takes place right at the end of the POTO movie/play when Meg finds Erik's mask. Enjoy
Summary: Meg Giry finds a mysterious mask in the Phantom's lair, and her life changes forever as she lingers behind to find out more about the mysterious stranger who stole Christine's heart...and possibly fall in love with him herself.
Disclaimer: I have absolutely no desire to get engaged in some stupid lawsuit or get sued, so I do not claim to own Phantom of the Opera.
Meg Giry was absolutely breathless, partly from running and mostly from panic and anxiety at wondering what she would find on this journey down to the catacombs of the Opera house. She had always been frightened of the Opera Ghost, for almost as long as she could remember. She had always been a believer, and she truly thought that the Opera Ghost existed. Of course, he had always terrorized the managers and staff into doing his bidding. Her own mother had strictly confidential information about him and knew him personally.
But, it wasn't until a few months ago the Opera Ghost truly had impacted her life. A few months past, mid October or so, her dearest friend in the world, Christine Daae, began acting... Strange. She was always day dreaming, never seeming to pay attention to what was going on. She was often tired, acting like she had stayed up the entire night. Meg suspected quite a number of things, but never revealed them to Christine. And little by little, as time went on, Christine's singing voice began improving drastically. Meg often heard her singing to herself under her breath when she was dressing or combing her hair or doing simple errands. Often times, she'd stop, mid-measure and mumble to herself "No, no, wrong pitch, remember?" or "I'm still taking a breath here, mustn't do that, he's already told me about it twice" Meg had no idea what in heaven's name Christine meant when she said that.
Finally, Christine confided to Meg. It was in the chapel, right after Christine had made her debut as an opera star as Elisa in Hannibal. Christine said her dying father had sent her an "Angel of Music" to protect her, and he was her great tutor who she'd been spending all those late nights with. Meg was a bit concerned, and worried Christine was hallucinating, or losing her mind, but she played along. After more and more suspicious events and even a few personal appearances, Meg really did believe this "Angel of Music" existed. But, she could see something Christine couldn't: Her beloved "Angel of Music" and the infamous enigma that was "The Phantom of the Opera" were the same person.
So, in a plan to capture this Phantom once and for all, the mangers and the wealthy Vicomte de Changy decided to perform the Phantom's opera "Don Juan Triumphant" and cast Christine as the lead role, Aminta, hoping to lure the Phantom into showing up so that they could capture him. Meg had been given a small role, a gypsy peasant boy. She'd been nervous all evening, fluttering around backstage and constantly watching Christine from the wings. And then finally, the Phantom had indeed shown up. Well, he'd shown up, completely seduced Christine, had been unmasked in front of all Paris, and crashed the Opera House's grand chandelier, taking many lives. He'd used the chandelier crash as a distraction and had kidnapped Christine down below the stage to god knew where. Meg had wanted to go help her, but her mother had pulled her far away from the heat of the flames and to safety. The Vicomte had ran up to her mother as Mme. Giry was pulling Meg along
"Where did he take her?" he demanded, furious and worried at the same time
"Come with me monsieur. I will take you to him. But remember: Keep your hand at the level of your eyes!" Mme. Giry yelled over the noise and confusion
"I'll come with you!" Meg shouted, fighting to wedge her way in between them
"No Meg! You must stay here!" Mme. Giry commanded, pushing Meg back into the crowds behind her. She could hear her mother calling to the Vicomte "This way! Come with me monsieur! Do as I say!"
Meg stood there for a moment in shock until she felt the pushing force of the mob behind her. She fought with all her strength to hold them back "No! No!"
Suddenly, a burly man grabbed her arm and handed her a small sling shot "Hey lady, you with us or against us? Cause if you ain't with us, then get outta they way!"
"Pardon me? With you for what?"
"We're catching this Phantom of the Opera! This is the last straw, murdering people and kidnapping a young girl. He's finally gonna pay for all he's done to us! Now, come on!"
So, that was how Meg ended up running. She pushed herself towards the front of the cluster of people. She knew how to get deep down and was pretty sure she could navigate herself and the mob through all the winding tunnel ways that led to this so-called "Phantom's lair" after watching her mother journey down there countless times. She joined in the furious, determined chant of "Track Down This Murderer"
Track down this
murderer -
He must be found!
Hunt out this
animal,
who runs to ground!
Too long he's
preyed on us -
but now we know:
the Phantom of the Opera
is there
deep down below . . .
He's here: the Phantom of the Opera . . .
Meg's heart was beating wildly. Her lungs felt as if they would nearly explode, but she kept going. Her wild long, blonde hair thumped against her chest rhythmically and she thought to herself how fortunate it was that she was wearing a pair of man's trousers instead of long skirts and petticoats that surely would have gotten tangled and ripped and only slow her down.
Meg kept running, the fury and determination welling up in her until she thought she'd surely explode. She had to keep going. She had to catch this horrid man, no thing that had terrorized her home for years and now had murdered half of Paris and was probably holding her best friend prisoner down there to satisfy his sick obsession.
This was it. Meg came to a long, winding staircase and knew she was going in the right direction. "This way, come on!" Meg said, motioning for the crowd to follow. They came to the bottom of the stairwell and came upon several passages and a lake that came up to Meg's waist. She saw the astonished looks on her companions' faces as they brought their torches up towards the walls and ceiling to get a better look.
Meg could hardly believe it herself. A whole underground world no one else knew about. There were a about a million different passageways and tunnels. How would she ever know which one would lead them to the Phantom in time? They could spend days or weeks wondering around helplessly down here!
Apparently the others were thinking the same thing.
"Now what do we do?"
"Where are we supposed to go?"
"How are we supposed to get to him in time?"
Meg heard something very faint. She held up her hands to silence everyone and listened intently. There it was again! Voices, and they were coming from the moat directly in front of them!
"This way!" Meg called. She charged determinedly down the pathway and stopped when she got to the moat. There wasn't any boat or other method of transportation to get them across it, so she supposed they would have to walk. She jumped down into the moat and motioned for the others to follow. Meg felt the chillingly cold water seep through her thin pants legs and boots and shivered.
After ten minutes, Meg knew she had made it. Suspended above her head was a huge gate locked into position by a lever. But that wasn't even anything compared to what she was about to see.
Straight in front of her was actually a lair. A huge land mass with candles everywhere, shattered mirrors along the walls, and music scores flung everywhere. Suddenly, Meg snapped back into focus as the other members of the group started trudging in and gasping in disbelief and shock. Christine! Where was she? And the Vicomte! They were no where to be seen. And where was the Phantom?
Meg hurried through the moat up on to dry land. She turned around several times, her hair flying wildly about, looking for someone, anyone to be seen. She couldn't believe it. She looked again. No, there really wasn't anyone here.
Suddenly, something caught her eye. A glimmer of red and green sitting in a small table. She bent down to look at it. In front of her was a beautiful ornately carved music box with a monkey in Persian robes on top playing the symbols. But that wasn't what had caught her attention.
Laying next to the music box was a simple white mask, designed to fit half of a specific person's face. Meg reverently picked up the mask with care and looked around again hoping against hope someone was down here. She knew instinctively that this was the Phantom's mask she was holding. Where could he have gone? How did he get away? Why did he leave his mask behind? All these questions raced through her head as she intently studied the mask, maybe hoping for a clue to the mystery she had stumbled upon.
By now, all the members of the mob were in the lair and looking around. Some had started going through the music and other objects in the lair. Meg snapped out of her trancelike state.
"No! Leave those things alone!"
Everyone stopped and looked at her queerly. "Why?" one asked
"Because, they aren't ours. And who knows what the Phantom may have done to them? They could be bewitched!" Meg said, knowing most of the opera house staff were very superstitious and fearful of the Phantom of the Opera.
Luckily, they all believed her and started putting down objects carefully in their former place or dropping them and wiping their hands together. Even more luckily, no one noticed Meg was still clutching the Phantom's mask.
"Come on everyone, let's leave. Who knows what else could happen? The Phantom could still be down here!" someone called out. Most of the mob members headed back out of the lair and started trudging back through the lake. The only remaining man in the lair, her dear friend Cedric,called to Meg
"Meg?"
Meg looked up
"Are you coming back upstairs? Would you like me to escort you?"
Meg sighed "I think I may stay down here a few minutesmore. Just in case anyone does show up. Thanks anyway Cedric."
Cedric nodded "All right. But, you should be extremely careful. Don't want to run into the Phantom. You know how dangerous that'd be"
She half smiled "Yes, I know. Thank you anyway. I'll return in a few minutes."
When Meg was finally alone, she stood up, still holding the mask and walked around, all sorts of questions racing through her mind. She looked around a bit. There was a wax model inbehind some drawn curtainsthat resembled Christine exactly. In the far corner was an enormous pipe organ with sheet music strewn all over it. Despite the glow of light from the candles, the place looked extremely dark and gloomy, like a horrible black darkness that had always been there and always would be.Meg couldn't imagine how on earth anyone could possibly live down here. It was so dreary and cold. What kind of man inhabited here? What was he really like?
Meg knew fragments and bits about the Phantom's past from her mother of course. She couldn't understand or believe someone's face could look so hideously horrible and frightening he'd had to hide himself away from society. Meg had only seen his face when everyone else had, a few hours ago when he'd been publicly unmasked. My god, had that only been a few hours ago? It had felt like an eternity to Meg since Don Juan was performed. So many things had changed in that short time.
But, try as she might, she still couldn't believe some one actually lived down here, by himself, all alone. She was amazed the loneliness and solitude hadn't driven him to madness already. How-
Suddenly, a dangerously low, cruel voice interrupted her thoughts
"Excuse me mademoiselle, but I believe you have something that belongs to me. And I would like it back. Now"