This songfic was inspired by Lifehouse's awesome song "You and Me"; this is sort of the sequel to my previous songfics "I Love You" and "Angel" but you can go ahead and read it by itself, it'll still make sense ( I hope...)

discalimer: the lyrics, as awesome as they are, belong to Lifehouse, and the characters belong, in part, to both Gaston Leroux and Andrew Lloyd Webber. believe me, if they didn't, I'd pounce on both the lyrics and the characters in a heartbeat.

What day is it? And in what month?
This clock never seemed so alive…

The morning we left, there was fog. A fog so deep, so impenetrable, it was impossible to see even a few feet ahead.

We used it to our advantage. She followed me through the pre-dawn streets, her hand clasped in mine as we moved inexorably forward. I knew it made her uneasy and uncomfortable, having to use such stealth and deception. But that was the only way I knew, and she followed me, learning, observing.

That's what I don't understand, even now. She could have had any life she wanted, but she chose to throw it away with me instead.

I can't keep up and I can't back down
I've been losing so much time…

The night she came to me was, now I know, one of my darkest. Having given up all hope, brooding as I so often did about Christine, I had assumed my life over, everything worthless. I decided to end it, once and for all, that night; that is, until she arrived.

At first, I was incensed. How dare she barge into my room? In my fashion, I regarded all with suspicion, her most especially. How was I to know that she would not exploit me, that she had not been sent there by her mother or some authority of the law?

Even when she kissed me, I was unable to comprehend. It's a trap, I repeatedly told myself, though something—I still don't know what—refused to let me pull away.

Cause it's you and me and all other people with nothing to do
Nothing to lose
And it's you and me and all other people
And I don't know why, I can't keep my eyes off of you…

The atmosphere was ethereal as we moved silently through the streets, the stillness and the mist oppressive, forcing silence, muffling sound. I could sense her apprehension, her fear, as she moved, every muscle and nerve pulled taut, awaiting danger in order to fly.

But the eminent danger never befell us, something I attribute to nothing more than pure luck. We arrived at the train station, still relatively empty, and I hid in the shadows while she purchased our passage, our escape.

She visibly relaxed once inside the compartment and the train began pulling out of the station. I, however, now taken from my element, grew as anxious as she had once been.

We sat together on the same stiff bench, and she gazed for a moment out the window at the solid wall of swirling silver before pulling the shade down with mild distaste. Looking now at me, she remarked, "We did it."

"Not yet," I said. "We still have yet to make it over the border."

She paled then, but only for a second. "They can only chase us so far."


All of the things that I want to say just aren't coming out right
I'm tripping on words
You've got my head spinning
I don't know where to go from here…
She rested her head against my shoulder, causing me to look at her in surprise. "Sorry," she mumbled. "I'm a little tired…"

Frozen to the spot, I never wanted the dream to end; yes, even after our night together, I was still convinced it was a dream. I wanted to die, right then and there, and I don't think there would ever be a better time; never before had I felt quite like that.

Sensing my shift in emotion, she looked at me curiously. "What's wrong?"

She thought I was upset. "N-nothing," I replied, finding myself stuttering, my usual eloquence sapped from being in her presence.

"Please don't lie to me."

I looked at her, met her eyes with mine, all at once losing and finding myself in their depths. "I'm not."

Skeptically, she said, "How do I know? You've spun lies all your life."

"I'm trying," I whispered, "…trying to change."

…Cause it's you and me and all other people with nothing to do
Nothing to prove
And it's you and me and all other people
And I don't know why, I can't keep my eyes off of you…

"I don't want you to change," she said. "I just want you to emerge."

"I think I already have," I replied, quietly, so unsure of myself.

She smiled then, the first time in my presence, and the sight of it still haunts me, to this day. It was one of those sad smiles, delicate, unbalanced, one of the most beautiful things I'd ever seen.

I told her such and she said bitterly, "I doubt it," and looked away, half in anger, half in sorrow.

"What do you mean?" I asked, alarmed.

She sighed deeply, steadying herself. "I heard you, once, at night. You were singing to her; you called her beautiful…'the radiant light in your world of darkness.'"

She spoke of Christine.

There's something about you now
I can't quite figure out
Everything she does is beautiful
Everything she does is right…

Why was it so hard to be with her? Before, with Christine, it'd been simple. We sang together, and that was our harmony, our euphonious existence. Sight was not needed, nor touch, or anything else; nothing except sound, swelling until we couldn't take much more of it. Life marched on, but we stood still, conducting, directing, singing and making the music from within.

Meg was different. Rather than yielding, she challenged me, constantly giving me pause in all thought, word, and action. In comparison, Christine now seems but an empty shell, made of insubstantial mists, of music. Life with Meg was not a song, but a dance. Not a stately waltz, either; the tempo fluctuated at all times, and we had to adapt, or be left behind. Instead of the two-dimensional existence I'd been leading, that of darkness and of pure sound, she transformed me, showing me how to use all of my senses in our interactions. She taught me not only to hear the music, but to feel it, to see it, to truly experience it as I had never before dreamed possible.

Dead to the world around her, she brought me back to life.

…Cause it's you and me and all other people with nothing to do
Nothing to lose…

"I want to show you something," I said, and stood, walking carefully across the compartment to where I had placed the small bag I kept my few possessions in.

I could feel her watching me, her gaze boring into my back as I stooped and rummaged through the bag, looking, finding, clutching something tight in my fist. I quickly walked back and grasped her hand, bringing her palm upwards to give homage to the hidden sky. "Here," I said, placing the precious object in her hand, and resuming my seat next to her.

She looked at it, puzzled. "Why are you giving me this?" she asked.

I took the ring in my hands—for that's what it was: a ring, the same Christine had given me before leaving me in the darkness below, alone. "Christine gave this to me, before she left," I said quietly, emotion threatening at my eyes and my voice. "I don't know why, but she did."

She stood, glaring at me accusingly. "You kept it."

"Yes. But I can't get rid of it."

I could see the tears welling up in her eyes. "She has power over you yet."

I stood, then, on impulse, caught her up in an embrace. She buried her face into my shoulder, and I said, "I owe everything to her, Meg. This ring…she saved my life."

"Go back to her then, I want nothing more to do with you," she cried, trying to escape from my arms, but I held her fast.

…And it's you and me and all other people
And I don't know why, I can't keep my eyes off of you
and me and all other people with nothing to do
Nothing to prove
And it's you and me and all other people
And I don't know why, I can't keep my eyes off of you…

"Listen to me. She may have saved me, but you…you offered me something she would never have been able to give me, I know that now."

She paused in her struggles to look up at me, slowly, deliberately. "What?"

"Redemption," I breathed, and kissed her.

What day is it?
And in what month?
This clock never seemed so alive

please review!