Disclaimer: If I owned this then Gerard Butler would be mine…
A/N: hey everybody! This is my first Phantom of the Opera fic. I really hope you like it! This going to be a Meg/Erik fic, so if you don't like that pair, then don't read this. Okay, now that that's over with, Meg is going to be the uber opera house person. She'll be able to sing, dance, and whatnot. I figured people portray her in a good light, instead of being annoying and obnoxious. She'll be mysterious and attractive. I think she deserves that much, since she's extremely underappreciated. Okay. I'm done ranting now. Like I said, I hope you like the story. Please review! Oh yeah, and it's in Erik's P.O.V.
She'll Always Be There Dancing 'Round In My Head
"Come, we must return," I said. "Those two fools who run my theater will be missing you."
I pulled Christine to her feet and led her to the boat. Once she was safely inside I began to row tot the opposite shore of the underground lake.
Once we were at the other side I helped her out of the boat. I led her through the many passages to her dressing room mirror. When she was in her room and in bed, I set out to deliver the letters I wrote to Messieurs Firmin and Andre, Carlotta, the Vitcomte, and Madame Giry.
With the other four notes delivered, I returned to the Opera House to deliver Madame Giry's letter. After sliding the letter under her door, I decided to walk around the house for awhile. I went to the stage and imagined what it would be like to stand in front of an audience and not be looked at as a freak. I also went into the seats and sat, thinking of what it would be like to enjoy a show like a normal person. Normal. Pah. The mere word made me sick. "Normal" people needed to rot in hell.
As I was walking backstage I heard singing. Thinking it was Christine (the voice was rather excellent), I went to find her. As I neared the room, my heart raced at the prospect of seeing my Christine, but, once I reached it, I found that it was only a dancer. I looked closely, only to find out that it was Madame Giry's daughter, Marguerite.
I remembered watching her grow up. She had always been an exceptional dancer, but I never knew she could sing so beautifully. Her voice rivaled, if not surpassed, Christine's. I had also never noticed what an enchantress she had become, due to my new-found obsession with Christine, and the fact that she never tried to make herself stand out. I figured that it must be to avoid teasing from the others because of her mother.
I studied her features. Her body, well-toned from years of dancing, her skin, a nice, healthy sun-kissed look, unlike my pale skin. She would look nice next to me. Her golden locks framed her angelic face. She was a beauty. I began to wonder why no one had tried to steal her away from us, but I found myself grateful that they hadn't. I knew I shouldn't be thinking these things, but it couldn't be helped. She could make any holy man have impure thoughts, she was so tempting.
I forced myself to concentrate on her voice. It was beautiful. There was a haunting and hypnotizing quality to it. Even after she stopped, I knew her voice would linger in my mind. The things I could write for her. The song she was singing was a previous opera. I couldn't quite make out the words she was singing though. Not that it mattered. Her voice was all that needed to be heard.
Soon, my attention was drawn to her actual dancing. She was incredibly talented. Her mother taught her well. By the passion and raw emotion I saw, I could tell that dancing was her life. Why she wasn't prima ballerina was lost on me. I would have to do something about that, but, of course, Christine was my priority.
I watched her until she finished. As she passed through the door I hid in a nearby alcove. I caught the faintest smell of vanilla as she passed. She was still singing softly as I watched her disappear down the hallway. Growing up in an opera house had certainly done her good. She could be considered a major threat if she were to ever show off her singing talent.
I stood there for awhile, staring at the spot I had seen her last. She enchanted me. There was something about her that I was drawn to. What it was, I didn't know.
When I was sure I was alone, I left for my underground piece of heaven and hell. I began thinking about Meg (as I had heard many ballet rats call her) and Christine. Christine had a wonderful voice; so did Meg. Meg could dance; Christine was okay at dancing. Christine was an open book, innocent. Meg was an enigma. She screamed passion, seduction, and love without saying a word. She knew her place at the house, but I knew she could do better.
Once I was in my lair, I sat at my organ. The image of Meg dancing was seared into my brain even more than the image of Christine in the bed. Then Meg's wonderful voice came back to me. I was right, it was haunting. I started to write music for Christine, but somehow it ended up looking more like a part for Meg. Why couldn't I get the girl out of my mind? Surely I wasn't infatuated with her after seeing her dance once? I must be going mad.
A/N: so how do you like it so far? Good? Bad? Please review, that way I can make it more to your liking. I'll try to update this as soon as I can. I'll have more time soon enough though. GRADUATION//00! Well, till next time kiddies! "God has spoken! You shall have more tortillas!" –Me.