AN: Wow! I'm so glad you guys liked the last chapter. I was so worried you wouldn't. Thanks for all the "happy birthdays" I got. And Sarah, I agree, Meg's speech could be less 21st century. I'll try and work on that. -grins- Oh, btw everyone, we shall see little bits of Erik's past from this chappie on! Teeheehee! His memories will be all written -like this-, just so you know. Now, on with the show!
Meg returned to the Phantom's lair almost every night, leaving him food on the rock outside his gate. She hadn't seen him since that first night she came, but she knew he was still there, watching her as she came. After a while she started bringing him more things besides food, such as parchment, quills, and ink, so that he could continue to write his music.
Meg couldn't explain it, but she looked forward to going to the Phantom's lair every night. Perhaps she enjoyed the thrill of it all? Whatever the reason, Meg didn't know and, to be completely honest, she didn't care. All she knew is that she wanted to be there.
When she returned to the Phantom's lair that night, however, she was surprised to find that the entrance to his home was open. She didn't dare pass through it, afraid she might offend him by entering without his permission. 'But perhaps this is an invitation?' She thought. Meg took a deep breath, looking all around, trying to find any evidence that he was there, but she found none. She bit her lip, 'Should I?'
Meg finally made her decision and slowly entered his lair, looking around cautiously, still unsure if she should even be entering. She stepped up onto his island and looked around. He had cleaned it up since she had last stood in this spot and it looked really nice, considering the location. She walked over to the organ and sat on the bench in front of it, staring at the sheets of music that rested on it. The ink glistened in the candlelight, leaving her to believe that these were freshly written pieces and that the one who had written them could not be far.
She read over the lyrics that were written beneath the notes and almost cried. The words were so sad, so mournful. 'Had he had any happiness in his life?' she wondered, gently placing her hand on the white, glossy keys of the organ and running her fingers over them, as she had done before. She sat there for a moment or two before attempting to play the notes.
She had learned how to play the piano when she was a little girl from Monsieur De la Fontaine, an old man who used to work at the Opera Populaire. She remembered how he used to tell her stories of the Phantom of the Opera; dark stories of how he haunted the Opera House. He would tell her things her mother would not, for Madame Giry knew of her daughter's curiousness and refused to give her anything more to be curious about. However, her efforts were futile, as young Meg had learned all she ever wanted to know from Monsieur De la Fontaine, rest his soul.
Meg was so absorbed into trying to play the notes that she hadn't noticed another presence in the room.
The Phantom was standing at the top of the stairs that led to his room and was watching her. He could not figure out why this girl would return to his lair practically every day (and bring him food, for that matter). This didn't make any sense to him. No one had ever wanted anything to do with him, not even his own mother.
His mother...
He shut his eyes tightly, trying as hard as he could to suppress the memory that tried so desperately to pry itself free from the deep, darkness of his mind where he had buried it so long ago...
However, try as he might, the memory got free and flooded his every thought, pulling him farther and farther away from where he stood, and drowning him in darkness...
-It was the first time he had been outside his home; the first time she had taken him anywhere. He was excited. The sun was shining, the birds were singing, and the wind whistled in his ears as the horses pulled the carriage through the streets. He smiled as the wind hit his face, blowing his hair all over. It was such a wonderful feeling! He felt free and, for the first time in his life, he felt...normal.-
He pulled himself from his thoughts before he could be taken any further when the music Meg was playing got even louder. The sound bounced off the walls and echoed throughout the lair, ringing in his ears. Finally, she stopped, wincing at how horrible it had sounded.
"I am terrible." She said to herself.
'Agreed!' Thought the Phantom, rubbing his ears, though he secretly thanked her for bringing him out of his memory.
Meg stood up, turning around to leave, but froze instantly when she saw him. "I-I'm sorry!" She said quickly, "I didn't mean to intrude, but the gate was open and I didn't see you and – I apologize. It was wrong of me to enter without your permission, and especially to start snooping around." She added, referring to the music that she had tried (and failed) to play. Meg hung her head in shame, trying her best to express how sorry she was.
He looked at her for a moment. "Why are you here?" He asked after a minute. Meg looked at him.
"I - ahem," She said, clearing her throat. He slowly walked down the stone steps and made his way toward her as she spoke. "I just came to bring you some more food." She took a couple steps backwards as he got closer.
"Why?" He asked again, calmly and silently, just inches away from her. His intense green eyes bore into her brown ones and she found it hard to look away. His eyes were so hypnotizing, she felt like she could look into them forever.
She finally snapped out of it and took a breath. "W-Well, I thought you might be...hungry?" She replied, not even sure herself why she kept returning. "Why do you have such a hard time excepting help from anyone, anyway?" She asked, feeling a tad bit more bold than she had a moment ago.
This aggravated the Phantom. He would have thought that the answer to that question would have been quite obvious. "Because no one ever helps me!" He growled, not meaning for the words to be as harsh as they had sounded.
However, Meg was not frightened by his answer, but was actually angered by it. "Well, now someone does!" Meg snapped back, getting up in his face. They glared at each other for a few moments before Meg realized that this man could kill her if he wanted to, and that he had almost succeeded in doing so once before. Slowly, keeping eye contact, she backed away, trying her best not to show any fear.
"Look," she said, trying to reason with him, "we aren't getting anywhere by arguing. Can't we just...talk?"
"What do you suggest we talk about, Mademoiselle?" He said in an icy tone.
Meg ignored this and said, "Well, I don't know your name." He tensed. "Is something wrong?"
"I no longer have a name." He said flatly, "It was washed away...a long time ago." He closed his eyes, once again trying to suppress more unwanted memories. This time they had no chance to overtake him, for Meg spoke once more.
"What happened?" She asked, concern in her voice. He opened his green eyes and looked at her.
"None of your business." He hissed.
Meg took a step back, just to be safe, and said, "I'm not here to judge, nor do I mean to cause you any trouble, but...please, I just want to know your name. Is that too much to ask?" He said nothing. Meg walked over to the miniature Opera House, trying to think of something, anything, to hopefully get him to open up to her.
He simply watched her, glued to the spot.
After what seemed like a half hour, Meg finally decided to start a conversation, one she was sure would perhaps get him to tell her his name. "Growing up," she began, "maman would refuse to tell me about the Opera Ghost; only that he existed, and that was it." She turned to look at him for moment, "Maman was always afraid of how I would react to such stories. She always said I was too curious and would only get myself in trouble." She turned back to look at the miniature Opera House. "But what maman didn't realize is that by not telling me about the famous 'Opera Ghost,' she only increased my curiosity. It didn't matter anyway, for an old man who used to work at the Opera Populaire told me all about him." She closed her eyes and smiled as memories from her childhood came flooding back to her. She chose one memory in particular, though it was quite a silly one and made Meg flush slightly as she recalled it.
"I allowed my mind to wander constantly," she continued, "imagining what the Opera Ghost looked like, who he was, and what his name was." She gave a slight chuckle and turned slightly pinker, "I called him–"
"Frederic." He finished. Meg's eyes snapped open and she turned to look at him.
"How did you–?"
"Being forced to live in such a place for so many years, having to keep yourself hidden, it can get lonely." He said, his voice monotone and his face expressionless. "What else did I have to do?"
Meg turned red. "U-Um...h-how much do you, um...what I mean to say is – were you...always there?" She didn't know what to say, afraid to talk about something that he might not know about, but at the same time, wanting to find out what he knew.
When Meg was younger, you see, she would play alone in the back of the Opera House, usually when her mother was busy training the ballet for upcoming operas, and she would pretend that she had met the Phantom, and they would go on adventures together. This was, of course, before Christine had come to live at the Opera Populaire. Yet even after Christine had come, Meg would sneak away sometimes so that she could go off into her own little world with the mysterious Phantom.
However, Meg wasn't sure if he knew about this. For all she knew, he could have only watched her one time and heard the name 'Frederic.'
"Was I always there?" He repeated, and Meg nodded. He shook his head and she sighed with relief. The Phantom turned around so that his back was to her and then said, very calmly, "Just most of the time." He smiled to himself, knowing that Meg was turning bright red.
"How much do you know!" She demanded.
"Enough." He said, "You were my entertainment, aside from the operas." 'And Christine.' He added silently. "But I must say," he continued, "I rather enjoyed your performances. They were very entertaining." Meg felt her cheeks heating up. "My favorite was when Meg and Frederic defeated the evil dragon, Enfer, and saved the Opera Populaire."
"YOU REMEMBER THAT!" Meg shouted, turning even redder (if that's possible). She felt so foolish for ever doing such things, and cursed herself for it.
"You don't forget something like that." He said silently, "Especially when someone makes you out to be a hero, and not a monster." Meg felt herself feeling slightly less foolish.
"So," she said, "are you going to tell me your name or shall I be forced to call you Frederic?" She looked at him, smiling. "That's not really your name, is it?" She asked, and he shook his head. "Well, I thought I might check. It would be something if I was right, don't you think?" He didn't say anything, so Meg shut up.
After a moment of uncomfortable silence, Meg spoke up again, "Will I ever learn your name?"
Again he said nothing.
"Very well." She said, unable to hide the disappointment in her voice, "I best be on my way, then. I will be back in a couple days with more food, if that's all right, and perhaps some other supplies, as well." She bowed her head ever so slightly, "Goodbye."
She turned to leave. "Erik." He said.
"Huh?" Meg turned around to look at him once more.
"It is what they used to called me..." He said, staring off into space, as he was lost in thought.
Meg's face brightened and she smiled. "Erik." Meg repeated, trying it out. She liked how it tasted in her mouth, 'Much better than 'Phantom.'' thought she.
Erik watched her, still unsure of what to make of her. She was so different from Christine, and yet, at the same time, she possessed many qualities that Christine herself had possessed... that Christine still possessed.
He didn't notice that Meg was also watching him, though for a completely different reason.
"You–" she said, bringing him out of his thoughts once more, "you don't look like an 'Erik.'"
"I don't look much like a 'Frederic,' either." He replied.
"Fair enough." Said Meg, smiling. "Thank you."
"For what?"
"For telling me your name." He raised his eyebrows. Why was she thanking him for something so trivial? "Well, I best be on my way." She said, bowing her head once again, "Until next time...Erik."
AN: Sorry for taking so long to get this chapter up. Been a tad bit busy. :( I'm not sure if I particularly like this chapter, but then again, I didn't like that last one either, and I was proven wrong about it. It's just another 'filler' chapter anyway. I'm just trying to get the pace along so that they tolerate each other enough for Meg to come back, LOL! It's nothing like her being trapped with him. She has to want to go to him and bring him these things, and he kind of has to want her to come, too, so it's kind of hard to do that and keep them in character (especially if you are a first time POTO writer, like myself). Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it.
Onto chapter 5!