The Phantom Ascending |✔| [Phantom of the Opera Fanfiction]

A Storm in Two Teacups

It was Meg! Even while half-asleep, I could recognize her scream. I ran out of the bedroom wearing nothing but a dressing gown over my chemise, but the cold didn't bother me, not as much as that awful scream.

More commotion, Meg's voice, the attic. My legs followed the sounds, and soon I reached the narrow steps that led toward the attic trapdoor entrance, and I found her there.

I felt relief at first — there was no intruder! — and then I felt anguish. Meg struggled, but she was firmly held in place by the Phantom. Funny how a single treacherous act could reduce him once again to that name in my mind.

"What are you doing? Let her go!"

He shifted and awkwardly carried Meg to the bottom of the small staircase, then hesitantly let her go. She wildly scrambled away from him.

"Christine, what on earth? Why are you so calm? What is this? How can he be alive? How can..."

"Shh, calm down. Let me take you to the kitchen and prepare some tea."

"I'll lit the fires since the servants are yet to arrive," Erik said quietly.

"Wait. Explain yourself, first," I turned to him sharply. Meg stared at me, wide-eyed, and he bowed to us.

"I apologize for accosting you, miss Giry. I'd heard you coming and had but the moment to stop you before you activate a trap designed to capture intruders. Nothing deadly," he rushed, and this seemed to be directed at me, "but for a dancer, even a broken ankle would be disastrous."

"You could have let me go once you stopped me," Meg replied, her fear mixing with annoyance.

"Without Christine to calm you, it seemed best not to risk your running to the nearest policeman."

"You said you will deactivate all traps," I pointed out.

"I kept the one to my lair as a single precaution, since you never come up anyway."

Shaking my head, I took Meg by her hand, pulling her away from him.

"Come Meg, let us continue someplace warmer. And you, can you check..."

"Consider it done," Erik cut off, and swiftly left to inspect the ground floor.

Meg was pale and breathed quickly, her lips tight, her eyes like saucers, but I knew her nerves will hold. By the time the two of us were sitting alone by the kitchen fire, having some tea and toast, her fear was replaced by something akin to reproach.

"I wish you hadn't found out," I said. "What were you doing up there, anyway?"

"I heard steps above my room, and went to see why, but never mind that. What's happening, Christine?" she whispered. "Are you his hostage? Did he do something to Raoul? Are we in danger?"

"No to all of that," I sighed. "Raoul is fine, and we broke it off before I even encountered the Phantom again. And he, he is actually protecting me."

"You are delusional."

"No, Meg... Remember that madman I told you about? The Phantom saved me from him."

I told her everything that happened, omitting for now the tale of the magical mask and the secret of Erik Dessler's identity.

"I know this sounds insane, but I invited him to live here after I've been nearly killed."

"But what if it was all the Phantom's ruse? Why would anyone want to kill you?"

"I don't know! Trust me, I've been there, it was not a ruse. And I believe it might be someone who blames me for the Paris fire, or some such thing."