A/N: My second fanfic ever written, but my first Phantom :)

Sort've excited, sort've nervous.

This is an E/M story :) Love it!

This one is goin' out into the world without a proofreader.

Wish it luck!

Disclaimer: Original Phantom Characters don't belong to me.

Flames consumed the interior of the opera house, smoke and fire billowing from broken down doors and shattered windows. Madame Giry had stood outside the theatre, with her arms wrapped protectively around Meg. Meg watched in silence, tears streaking her cheeks as she clung to the ivory mask hidden beneath her blouse. "Mama," Meg's whisper broke the silence between the two as she laid her head against her mothers shoulder, "What do we do? Where will we go?" She asked quietly, clenching her teeth to contain the sobs that thickened in her throat.

Madame Giry just forced a smile, stroking her daughters face soothingly. She never responded, and Meg didn't force the answer from her. The heavy snowfall did not ease their suffering as they watched a section of the roof collapse, the frigid winds adding to the chills that already coursed through their bodies.

Four years later, Meg Giry still found herself called to Paris, France. She often wished to leave the past behind, but she felt too strongly to simply let it die. Winter was dangerously close, but she did her best to pay the cold no mind.

The empty streets held an ominous quiet, only the shuffling footsteps of one wandering figure breaking the silence of the night. Walking alongside the inactive road, she only had the moonlight to guide her. Dirt clung to the blue gown, adding to its vile appearance. The wrinkles and ripped cloth provided little warmth against the cold breeze; the blonde's thin body shivering from the cold.

Teeth clattering as she slowed in her walk, eyes fixated on the monumental building across the road, its doors broken down. Shattered windows remained black from the flames that had long ago torn the building apart. The Opera House, which once served as her only home, was still standing - despite its broken down appearance.

Meg knew it was illogical to stay in the small city that offered her nothing. Her mother had passed away, her friends had deserted her, and there was no longer a stage for her to dance upon, but still she remained in this town with hopes that her sweet memories of the past would eventually collide her future. There was nothing left to cling to but that small hope.

"Good evening, Mademoiselle." A dark voice purred from the shadows of the alleyway behind the blonde. She turned sharply, wrapping her arms around herself protectively. A tall man was leaned against the wall of the old, abandoned bakery. His lustful gaze searched over her trembling body before meeting with her green eyes, a half smile curling on his pursed lips.

"Monsieur." Meg nodded her head with respect before continuing on her meaningless walk.

"Enjoying a walk?" The man's voice called out again, but she merely glanced at him over her shoulder without a verbal response. "Aye, What's the rush?" He asked, quickly following after the lone woman.

"Please, sir, I'll just be on my way." Meg sighed, keeping her back to him as her steps rapidly increased.

"A lady, such as yourself, shouldn't be out here all a-"

"That's lovely." Her words cut him off quickly, teeth bared tightly as her legs brought her to a run. He caught her effortlessly, winding a thick arm around her stomach.

"Let's talk." The man laughed mockingly as she squirmed in his arms. Shoulders jerking forward and legs kicking at the air, Meg tried desperately to break herself free, but no screams were ever sounded. "Come on, pigeon." He nuzzled into her hair as he drug her across the empty street. Her face scrunched in disgust at his thick stench of alcohol and body odor, a small animalistic growl rumbling from her throat. Her legs continued to flail in hope to throw him off balance, but the man continued dragging her towards a building. Lifting her gaze, green eyes locked on the building he obviously intended to drag her into. Her stage - her sanctuary, and her home. Meg couldn't help but laugh quietly, despite the tears that filled her eyes.

"That's it. See, it'll be fun." The man smiled, guiding her through the wooden door that hung loosely from a single hinge.

Meg grimaced at his words, "Let me go, sir." She warned through grinding teeth, a hand reaching out to grab at the door, but her ripped her away easily.

"There'll be no talk of that." A hand swatted her rear, and Meg jumped slightly with a yelp. He tightened his grip around her waist, lifting her light body fully into his arms to cradle her. "I see," He gave a sly smile, revealing yellow-coated teeth "Not a screamer?"

A single tear rolled down her cheek, and the feeling only further infuriated the blonde. "Let me go." She repeated with a growl, thrashing in his arms until her elbow brutally collided with his throat. Breath hitched in his throat, he desperately tried to force out air. His grip loosened so he could massage at his adams apple, and she didn't hesitate to shake herself free. Running up the curved steps, Meg tried to regain her own breaths, stumbling every few steps. She tried not to allow this to slow her, fingers gliding the steps surfaces so she never fully lost her balance. He immediately followed, maniacal laughter growing louder as he drew closer.

When his long fingers wound around Meg's arm, a freehand swung back and struck his cheek. He seemed unfazed by the slap, simply pulling her small body towards him. "Why the fuss, pigeon?" Plaque layered and uneven teeth were unmasked again when he grinned widely at the struggling blonde, wrapping both arms around her waist and pressing her against him.

Meg allowed herself to go limp, collapsing fully within his grasp as her head fell against his chest. "Don't be wearin' yourself out. Long night ahead." He whispered softly, lips brushing against her ear. Her dry lips curled into a sly smirk as she remained hidden in his chest, small fists clenching tightly. Releasing her waist, dirt covered hands held her face. She instantly scowled as his lips forcefully met hers. Trying to pull away caused him to grab at her hair, holding her face against his. Her tight fists began to tremble with anger; her nails piercing through the skin of her palms while malicious thoughts flooded her mind.

When her lips parted he took the moment, as though it were an invitation, to slip his tongue past, the foul taste of liquor increasing. His assumptions were proven mistaken with her teeth clamped around his lower lip and the back of his tongue awkwardly. He threw her back viciously, slamming her back against the stair railing. "Damn you! You little whore!" His voice echoed throughout the opera house. When Meg reached for him with a soft smile, he stepped back in confusion.

As she placed her hands on his shoulders gently, his thick eyebrows scrunched together. "Monsieur?" Meg's angelic voice seemed to captivate him as his brown eyes watched the title slip past her lips provocatively. Without a second more of hesitation, Meg had lifted her knee, the bone ground against his groin instantly. The man's eyes widened, a guttural groan escaping him as he slowly sank to the floor. "Good evening." She nodded, blonde curls bouncing when she turned about quickly and ascended the last of the stairs.

"Little bitch!" He squeakily screamed after her, but remained hunched over in pain with his hands cupped over his lap. She hurried into the first bedroom she'd come across, slamming the door behind her. Leaning against the door, her hands finally wiped at her mouth with disgust.

"Pig." She muttered breathlessly. As her eyes wandered the room, to the overturned dressers and a shattered bookshelf, they widened when she found the large mirror shattered. Staring into the darkness of the passageway, memories returned to the woman.

- She slipped through the crevice in the wall with ease, eyes searching the darkness hopelessly. "Christine?" She whispered into the shadows, hands gliding across the cold stone. Her mother had ripped her from the darkness before she'd found her friend, or the 'Opera Ghost' that plagued every conversation within these walls.

Again she'd ventured into the darkness, again in search for Christine. She'd made it through his underground labyrinth by chance, running frantically in hopes to beat the frenzied mob following not too far behind.

A white mask caught her eyes – deserted on a small wooden case. Meg frowned as she touched the masks cold surface, fingers softly tracing it. "We've found them," A mans voice echoed behind her. "The Vicomte and Ms. Daae." He finished as Meg turned around to listen to the men conversing. "They've taken a boat."

She watched a scarlet curtain near her swaying slightly, as though recently disturbed. She bit her lip curiously, but ignored her urges. "Where were they going?" Meg asked softly. Two men glanced over at Meg, one's eyebrows scrunched together to wrinkle his forehead, while the other seemed to laugh softly. "What are you mumbling about, stupid girl?" They laughed back at her. Meg only sighed, allowing her green eyes to scan over the gloomy labyrinth.

"He's not here." A man growled in annoyance, ripping down ebony curtains in a fit of fury. Inside, a certain blonde smirked at their attempts.

"Just take what you can." Another sounded from the distance.

Meg glared coldly at the group as they tore curtains and smashed furniture; and as they were busy pillaging what they could, Meg Giry clutched the ivory mask to her chest and slipped away into the darkness. -

Meg silently crept through the opening, just as she had four years ago. Darkness still hung within the tunnel, and she used to her hands to travel as her eyes. The passage was blocked, the walls ahead having crumbled down. Meg shrieked softly as a plump rat brushed against her foot before it vanished beneath the massive stones. Meg pushed at the boulders for a moment before sighing heavily. The stones wouldn't budge – not from the strength of a ballerina, so she made her way back into the light of the room. She cracked open the bedroom door first, watching cautiously for signs of the man following her. With no other persons in sight, she slowly pulled the door open further and peered out into the hall. He moved towards her from the shadows instantly, a wicked smile played upon his face. A scream finally passed her lips, despite all her previous attempts to hold them back.

"My screamer!" He laughed, holding the bedroom door open with his hand when she tried to slam it shut. She pushed against the door with her shoulder, tears blurring her vision as he began pushing it open further.

She threw more weight into her shoulder, crushing the man's fingers between the door and wall. Meg didn't allow the pressure to weaken, keeping her weight fully pressed against the door as she heard bones crunching quietly. Her teary eyes closed tightly, small cries passing her lips as she fought to keep the door from opening. When the door pushed open slightly, Meg pressed her back against it and dug her heels into the floor to push it back. The man's fingers slipped out and the door finally slammed shut. Meg fumbled with the handle, locking the door with trembling hands. Back still firm against the wood, she slid to the floor with a whimper.

Fists pounded against the door, and her body shook with each vibration of strikes. "Christine once spoke of an angel," She whispered through cries, "And, God, I wish he could appear. It's silly to call on the darkness..." Meg seemed to be praying, resting her forehead on her knees as she stilled her trembling body. The man's vulgar shouts remained, but she was so lost within her thoughts they seemed nonexistent. "But I need him here." She rested her head back against the door, eyelids slowly lifting.

"You can't hide forever!" The man shouted, still pounding against the door. Meg smirked faintly, wiping the tears from her cheeks gently.

"Here in this room I'm at your mercy. Sitting alone, hiding." Her voice softly called to the empty room, eyes moving to the crevice that once led to his 'lair'. "Now, all my words plead for safety. Angel of Darkness, guide me."

"I'll guide you, little whore." The man spat angrily, another pound shaking the door slightly.

"Keep your hand at the level of your eyes." A voice whispered, causing Meg to turn about sharply to face the closed door. Minutes of silence passed; no fist thundering at the door, no shouts and grunts. Slowly, her body began to relax. Frightened trembles weakened to her usual shivers, Meg's eyelids slowly began to close. She'd fallen into a deep slumber, curled protectively against the door.

Taa-daa! There's the first chapter :)

As you can see…this is Meg's story. Well, Erik's too…

But for the first few chapters, its the dancers turn in the spotlight.

I have most of this story thought out, including having already completely written ending and epilogue...but the characters haven't exactly revealed every little trial they go through yet. (A true writer should understand that previous comment). Therefor..

Reviews are encouraged. As my first Phantom, I deeply want to know the readers thoughts on the direction this takes.