Leroux based. Erik wants to die, but only after three days, he wakes up, wondering why he's still alive and the shocking revelation that throws the infamous phantom off guard.

Chapter 1: Little Giry's Resolution

Erik's POV

Erik felt like he needed to open his eyes. No…I'm supposed to be dead…why do I feel like living again? But the urge to awaken was too strong. Erik opened his eyes and looked around. He was still in his room, but now he could tell what awoke him; a fragrant smell of food, bacon, ham, cheese, wine.

How was this possible? Erik got out and realized that his shirt was missing due to the draft flowing gently around his body. Looking around, he saw a fresh shirt and pants on a chair nearby. That wasn't there before, Erik thought. Never the less, he put them on and headed out of the room.

Everything seemed out of place somehow. But not so much that he couldn't find anything. His opera was left untouched which he was grateful. But the uneasiness was too great to ignore, Erik began to inspect every inch of the labyrinth, finally going to the dining room where a little girl was placing things down on the table.

This girl was small in her frame and bony. Her skin was sickly pale and her hair was black as were her eyes. Her thin frame was not appealing, nor was it so sickly that it was horrible. More it was common, gentle and soft to the touch. Her hair was black and sleek, her eyes were a deep black and she had a hint of Asian.

She looked up and gasped, dropping a glass which shattered. She blushed and Erik snarled angrily at her.

"Who are you?" He demanded. The girl mumbled something under her breath. "Speak up!" Erik barked.

"Meg Giry, Monsieur. I'm sorry, I just…Chris—" She stopped when Erik tensed at the near mention of the name. "She said such horrible things and I…well…I didn't want you to die, Monsieur. I didn't want to see the Phantom just die, not yet." Meg said quietly.

Erik growled and the girl backed down a little bit. She couldn't be any older than thirteen or fourteen (AN: I have the picture that Meg is younger than we anticipate her to be, sorry if you disagree). "You are bold, Little Giry," he sneered. "But you should have just let me die in peace."

Meg shook her head, blushing again. "Many of the girls in the Opera have pictured you as one of the most amazing men ever to exist, despite the accidents and the rumors. Some are frightened, some have decided to stop believing in you; dismiss you as mere superstition. But I saw you around once in a while; when I should have been in bed, I would watch you haunt the opera house. I don't know why, but you strike me more of a great hero in a story; like Dracula."

"A book not for young ladies, Little Giry," Erik hissed.

"I don't care; I was reminded of Dracula whenever I saw you around the opera house," Meg said a little louder, a little bolder, than before. But the boldness was gone as soon as it had come; she blushed deeper and looked down at the floor.

Erik sat down and looked at the food she prepared. What's the harm? He took a bit of the ham and took a bite. The taste was as heavenly as the smell. He ate all in his reach, realizing how hungry he was. After a few minutes, he felt eyes on him and looked at Meg with annoyance. She blushed again…

Why does she keep doing that!?

"Sorry. I was worried it wouldn't be that good," Meg said in her small voice.

Erik felt a sad feeling in his heart. Was it regret? Regret for the little girl sitting in the seat next to him? Why?

"I'm just not used to this; having someone…wait on me," Erik said. He kept eating, asking questions once in a while. "How long have I been asleep?"

"Three days, I came here as soon as you returned to the opera house; actually I waited for you to go to your bedroom before I started cleaning."

"Where is your mother?"

"She has been gone for a while now. On leave for a little bit. She won't be back until the end of the month. She thinks I'm with…her…but I told her that I'd rather stay on my own than be her friend any longer. So, I came here; for the meantime, I have nowhere to go, Monsieur."

"Why would you want to stay here anyway?" Erik asked, finally getting to where he wanted to go with this game.

Meg blushed. "Well, I want to stay here because…I…I…Iwannaelpu." She mumbled.

"Speak up, Little Giry; not even the birds can hear you," Erik lectured.

"I want to help you; I want to help you see that not all people are terrible. I want to show you that not all people would use you to get what they want. That not all people fear you—I don't." Meg finished.

Erik stared at the child. Forgetting that he was eating, Erik stood and knocked the plate too the ground.

"YOU WOMEN ARE ALL THE SAME!!!" He shouted, glaring at the little girl. Meg seemed not to hear him…she stood and glared at him.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN, 'YOU WOMEN?'" She cried. "WELL, YOU MEN ARE ALL THE SAME AS WELL, MONSIEUR LE FANTOME!" Meg was trembling now, and Erik began to fear that she'd faint from the tremors. "I only w-wanted to help," Meg said, her voice beginning to break. "Why d-don't you want it?" She asked, hiccupping. "All women who love someone want to help them if they need it," Meg sobbed, going weak in her knees and falling to the ground.

Erik was at a lost at what to do. He never dealt with a woman crying the way Meg cried now. Erik knelt down and patted her back awkwardly. A second later, Meg grabbed onto him and sobbed into his chest.

Time seemed to stop as Meg sobbed herself to sleep. Erik, as helpless as a new born in the situation, just let her soak his shirt with her tears. Finally, she fell asleep and Erik picked her up with ease and carried her to the St. Louis room.

Erik then left and headed to find another shirt…a dry one. He sighed and wondered why he blew up like that. The little girl just wanted to show him with what he wanted Christine to show him.

What can a child show me that she couldn't? Erik asked himself, looking at the door to the room which Meg slept in. Erik groaned and headed to the kitchen to pick up the ruined breakfast.

The sight on the floor made him clench his fist in frustration.

What is happening to me? Do I, the Phantom of the Opera, feel sorry for a child who invaded my slumber into death? Damn her!

Erik, none the less, picked up the spoilt food and thought about Meg's goal for the month.

Stupid, little wench! She doesn't know how dangerous it is down here. How dangerous I am. Hero; me. HA! Yeah right! The only hero I can be is the tragic kind. Hell, I never saved anyone in my life! Except for myself. Some hero I would turn out.

Erik's thoughts soon turned back to Christine and he stopped cleaning the mess, pounding the ground in white hot fury, fresh tears coming down his cheeks. He removed the mask and tore at it. "DAMN YOU!!! DAMN YOU, CHRISTINE!!!" His anger subsided into the pain that would kill him one of these days. "Christine…" He moaned.

Three days ago, he declared that he was dying because of love; dying because of Christine. But now, he was cleaning his kitchen due to his new distrust of women, also because of Christine.

Meg woke to heart breaking sobs. Her eyes were still red from the pain of Erik's words. She looked around and noticed that there was no door. Meg frowned and began to look for the door. Her fingers ran over a small nook and she pushed against it with all her strength. The sobs didn't reside, nor did they grow louder, but Meg still pushed against the wall until it opened on its own. Meg looked out cautiously and then tiptoed out to the kitchen; the sobs growing louder.

The Phantom loved Christine more than she anticipated, and this made her stomach churn.

Jealousy is not good…I should know better. But, I can't help it; he deserves better than Christine. Maybe she hurt him so much that he couldn't believe me even if he wanted too.

Meg gently wrapped her arms around him and he pushed her away, his hand over his face.

"Don't look at me!" He shouted, glaring at her between the fingers; looming over her. Meg sighed and stood as well, looking up at his face, two feet above her.

"Monsieur, did you love her so much that you think that you wouldn't be able to find love again? Monsieur le Fantome, I really want to help you; at least try to help you. Please, won't you at least let me try?" Meg asked, looking rather innocent and oblivious to what she was saying.

The phantom looked at her and he lowered his hand. Meg gasped silently and began to shiver. The death's head stared right back at her. Everyone was right; the Phantom's face was the face of death. Meg turned her head downwards and clutched her arms, trying to calm the shivers.

"Now you know why I cannot accept your help; how can you help me if all anyone has done was reject me? I had hoped that Christine could show me the compassion that I was never shown. If she can't show me how, then why would you?" He snarled.

Meg gulped and looked back up at him. The Death's head was glaring back at her; daring her to speak. She dared, "I admit that I'm frightened, Monsieur. I admit that I am capable of hate; capable of rejecting you like everyone else has, but I am also confident that I might be able to help you anyway. Why I would help you is not clear to me, but please? Just give me a chance. Give me a chance to try."

The Phantom smirked and Meg shivered again. "Very well; I'll give you the chance. The month while you're mother is gone; you can attempt to 'help' me." Meg's eyes lit up and she smiled.