Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

In the previous years, Christmas and the entire month of December served to remind Erik that he is alone. When you ask a child what they think of during this time of year, their answers could include, cookies, sweets, elves, family, Christmas trees, sledding, caroling, etc.

Christmas and the holidays are supposed to be a time of love, hope, happiness, family togetherness. Erik’s mother denied him of all these things. Madeleine was too immature when she had Erik. She did not leave the spoiled child stage until it had been too late.

During this time of year, Erik thinks of worn shriveled leather boots, with holes large enough that your toes poke out, making your socks wet, soggy, and cling to your feet. The stockings that were hung by the chimney with care, were his soggy wool socks. He has no family or visitors to share pudding, no lover to keep inside from the cold.

He was alone in his tomb, content with Ayesha as his only companion. The holidays were never something he enjoyed. His mother denied him the celebration of Christmas, he was not allowed to attend any services. He was refused mass at every turn.

As he grew older and exposed himself to new cultures and people, he saw that Christmas was not even about Jesus or God, so much as it was about gifts, Santa. These cretins were practicing pagan rituals and did not even realize it, he found that most amusing.

He anticipated that this year would be no different than the last. He was wrong.

-----

“What is that.”

Meg pauses and turns her head to address him, “an elephant,” she turns back around to the little box. She smiles at her reflection of the red glass ball ornament before placing in on the branch of the tree.

There is a tree, a tree that was not there when he retired to bed last night, nor was it there when he woke up this morning. He thought nothing of it when Meg said she needed to run errands, those errands included bringing a tree into his home!

“Why is it here.” Erik digs his nails into his palms, and he can feel his skin slice from the intensity. He sucks in air and he tries to remain composed. Meg is oblivious to the danger.

Erik did not ask for this tree, or any of the ridiculous tchotchkes that have been spread throughout his home. The nutcracker beside his bed had been too much and he feels no morose over its destruction.

“You didn’t have a tree, so I went out and got you one. I had to make you a stocking, it is by the mantle. Oh, Christine’s event is tonight, and the only outfit you have that is appropriate is your Red Death suit, so I dropped it off to be dry cleaned and pressed.” Meg moves away from the tree and picks up a box next to her and presents it to Erik.

“It’s not really a present, it’s part of your outfit.” Meg lifts the top of the box and tilts it so he can inside, a mask, a ying-yang green and red glitter themed mask.

“Ta da,” Meg says without enthusiasm. Erik lifts it from the box, he is tempted to destroy it. He turns it around and over.

“Do you hear that?” Meg leans over, her hand at her ear, Erik shakes his head.

“Exactly! I am keeping Marley’s Ghost at bay for you this year. You’re welcome,” Meg winks and clicks her tongue.

“Clever clogs. Your droll never ceases to amuse,” Erik smiles false behind his mask.

“It will make Christine happy if you try.” Meg puts her focus back to decorating.

Erik is easy to manipulate once you understand how he works and what he truly values and loves, for example, power. Erik loves having power over others and being in a position of absolute control. Nadir used this to manipulate Erik into following him to the shah, and Meg uses his obsession with Christine to get him to do things he would otherwise not do.

“She put you up to this?” He finds sudden interest in the mask. Ayesha's out from hiding and rubs herself against his legs, Erik looks down and double takes. Ayesha is dressed like an elf. Ayesha has Meg on her shit list. Meg smiles and has no regrets.

“Oh, I also did that,” Meg giggles.

-

-

“You came!” Christine squeals with delight and jumps into Erik’s arms, and he is only too eager to wrap himself around her. He holds onto her as long as he can. Raoul coughs and waits, when he sees that they are unable to separate on their own, he grabs Christine around the waist and pulls her backwards. Meg places their gift under their tree and ogles at their decorations.

They have a grand tree, the lights are white, the tree is donned with gold tinsel and other baubles and trinkets.

The fireplace is decorated with garland and a large standing Christmas Rabbit on either side. Meg cannot help herself; she steps up to one of the rabbits and shakes its hand.

“Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

--

Raoul hands Meg a drink and gives her a tour of the home. Once it concludes, they step outside and admire the lights.

“Did you talk to Claude, perchance?” Raoul asks trying to sound nonchalant.

“He’s nice. He lives with his mother until he can afford not to. I know about that life. I figure in twenty years; I’ll be able to afford to move out.” Meg sets her drink on the ground and walks forward and picks up some snow.

“Maybe you and Claude could live together, as roommates.” Raoul adds the last bit rushed.

“I think I’d need a second job even with a roommate. Everything in the city is so expensive.” Meg packs the snow together and turns, Raoul is ready and throws his own snowball at her face, a direct hit.

--

Meg half crawls/runs on the ground as she tries to find cover. She finds it behind a bush near the end of the property. Meg wastes no time as she gathers snow to form her weapon.

Raoul may think he has an advantage growing up with siblings, but Meg is an adaptor and clever. She peers her head around the corner, always check those corners.

Raoul is not where she last saw him, she returns to cover. He is on the move! Meg peers around the other way. Meg sees a body and her reaction is immediate, she throws the snowball.

Erik catches it, after a moment, he drops it onto the ground. Meg eeps and hides. Raoul comes out from hiding; he throws one at Erik’s head before he runs away.

--

“Was that your first snowball fight?” Christine asks. She and Raoul are seated together on the other end of the sofa. Erik is sulking.  He could be in a warm place right now.

It is moments like these that Erik is reminded that he is older and not a part of Christine or Meg’s world. He is a crotchety old man, and he should be alone, with his cat and walking stick, shaking it at the pathetic youths. Marley’s Ghost should be at his door pounding, screaming and demanding Erik to repent or die.

“I have the cure to your bitters, Apollo,” Meg places a mug in his hand.

 A part of him wants to drop it or pour it onto her, to spite her, to bring her down and put Marguerite in her place. She has been too bold lately, and that must be corrected.

Instead, he brings the mug to his lips and imbibes. He is somewhat disappointed that it is hot chocolate and not liquored up. Erik made the catastrophic error of not hiding his morphine and cocaine, and Meg made it clear she does not support his addictions. That apparently includes not allowing him to have alcohol if she can help it.

Christine leaves the room briefly and when she returns, she hands out Christmas crackers. Erik has no idea what to do with it.

“Do we do it at once?” Christine asks, Raoul and Meg wait for a count, and they pull and laugh as it goes off. Erik glares as Meg puts a paper crown on his head.

“Oh come on, I’m doing all this work to keep Marley from you, put in some effort of your own,” Meg boops his masked nose and he grabs her hand.

He smiles behind his mask, a victory.

 Instead of wincing, or complaining, Meg simply tugs her wrist until he moves forward a bit and she kisses him. He is surprised and lets her go. Her turn to smile at victory.

--

Erik pulls back the last bit of tissue paper, a tiny jumper too small for any human to wear. He looks at Christine, she smiles.

“It’s for Ayesha, I’m sure she gets cold in the tomb of yours.” Erik takes the jumper from the box and holds it up. It is red with sequins on the front that says, “NAUGHTY,” in large friendly letters.

Erik is hesitant as he tears the wrapping paper from Raoul’s gift. He is surprised to find a dark case, like one that usually holds a musical instrument. Christine’s face pales and she holds onto Raoul’s hand, he turns away, Erik does not like that smirk.

He opens the box, and he exhales slowly. Meg leans over and she covers her mouth with both hands. Her eyes go wide, she turns her head to the side several times and then looks over to Raoul. Meg holds onto to Erik’s arm, still animated in her shock.

Raoul got Erik an Oboe for Christmas. Christine leans into her husband and scolds him. Raoul is proud of himself and then feigns innocence and confusion.

“What? Erik is a musician, and he does not have an Oboe. As someone who loves to learn new things, I thought that this would be fun.”

Erik turns his head to the side and taps the instrument.

“I even purchased premium sheet music.” Raoul holds up another wrapped package.

“Raoul,” Christine groans softly, she slumps on the sofa and moans in sorrow and exhaustion.

“If he can sing, can’t he play the Oboe?” Raoul asks innocently.

“I don’t think that’s the same thing,” Meg intends to get rid of the rude gift.

“Yes, it is,” Raoul has no regrets.

“You’re a dick.” Meg narrows her eyes.

Raoul shrugs.

“Let’s have another round of drinks!” Christine shouts as she jumps to her feet. She hurries off to play bartender.

--

“I didn’t know he was going to do that,” Christine says in a hushed tone. Meg and Christine are holding a side bar.

“How did you not know?” Meg hisses.

Erik is watching the exchange, amused. Then he realizes something, he is not alone. Erik does not know how he feels about that. It is strange. He reaches out for the cat jumper, and he holds on to it tightly, just to be sure that this is real. He is not hallucinating this.

He is in Christine’s home, he is wanted. Several emotions swirl around inside of him. He is ill. He stands up, the nauseum kicking in, he needs to get air, to vomit, to not be here.

He stumbles to a bathroom and locks himself inside.

Meg is outside the door; she is holding a tall glass of water. Erik has locked himself in the bathroom for around 45 minutes and Meg and Christine are starting to worry.

Finally, the door opens, Meg steps aside and lets Erik step out, she holds out the glass of water, he takes it, he does not address her as he walks back over to the sofa and sits down.

Erik stares into space and slowly drinks the water. He is vaguely aware that someone is trying to speak to him. They are static. He does not understand. Things are different this year and he is having difficulty accepting that.

--

“If you’re that upset over the Oboe, I’ll give you the receipt.” Raoul says, Christine gave him a verbal thrashing, and he is feeling pouty himself.

Erik silently raises his head and turns to face Raoul. Raoul shifts on the spot, feeling awkward at the gaze of a man whose entire face in concealed by a holiday themed mask.

“We can go if you want,” Meg whispers into his ear. She holds onto his hand and their fingers interlock.

Meg does not want to give up on this. Erik has not experienced a lot things in this life that most humans take for granted. Erik has never had the loving or protective embrace of a mother, hell, she never even kissed him, and denied that when he asked for it as a birthday gift.

His first crush fell to her death after seeing his face after unmasking him. The man he came to know as a father, betrayed him.

Then there were those years in Persia. He told her all the juicy and in depth details, she is sure, to push Meg away, so he could stay the sulking bitter old man.

The first time he touched Christine without wearing gloves she screamed and recoiled in horror. She still is weary of his touch, she falls to him and his thrall, and is clearly just as obsessed with him as he is with her, but she is product of society: ugly is ugly.

Meg is different. She has had little; she and her mother do what it takes to survive. They did not always have Opera Populaire. Meg and her mother even briefly worked for a traveling circus. They met strange and unique people. When you work with and are exposed to unusual and unique people, certain prejudices fall away. Meg’s first crush was the troupe’s Wolf Boy.

Erik is not used to kindness or compassion. It confuses him when he is shown either and he does not trust it.

"Everyone has an ulterior motive. Humans are tools that are meant to be used for one’s gain." He told her once. Meg will never forget his anger and the bitterness of those words, and the hatred that shined in his golden feline eyes.

"Is that how you live, Erik?" Meg bit her lip.

"That's how everyone lives, my dear." Erik is equal parts arrogant and bitter.

Erik initially had refused to believe that Meg genuinely held romantic interest in Erik.

“I know what you want. It’s my face, you’re curious and you want your childish need to be satisfied,” he tears the mask from his face and laughs bitterly. He grabs her roughly and pulls and holds her close.

Meg reaches out with her free hand and touches his inflamed skin. She is unafraid. She does not flinch, she is not repulsed.

“Your skin needs to breathe.”

Meg left later that day to purchase salves and balms. She was able to reluctantly convince him to let her try and treat his skin condition with the balms and salves she purchased. His questioning of her intentions slowly decreased over the coming weeks, he started to believe her, that she wanted to be there, to be with him.

Sometimes she finds him in the music studio in such a terrible state, she thinks he is dying. When he composes or plays music, he does not take care of himself. His entire being is poured into his work at the detriment to his health.

He will go days without eating, and Meg must force him to drink broth. He is too weak to be at a physical advantage, so she can use her strength against him in those moments.

Other times his wretched state is the result of Christine. When a lesson is over and she goes home, he is left alone, and he is forced to remember, to accept that she chose Raoul, again, and again, she chose Raoul, the pretty  rich boy.

Meg holds onto him as he weeps, sometimes he turns his violence towards her before he succumbs to mental and physical exhaustion. Meg stays, she sooths, coos, and holds his hand, until he gets his strength back.

Her world turned upside down when he asked her if she would come back as she walked out the door.

“Do you want me to come back?" Meg has her fingers crossed behind her back and she purses her lips.

"What you do makes no difference to me. I will not cast you out, should you decide to return." Erik lacks his usual alpha dominance. He is agitated and he cannot look at her, even with his mask on, he does not look at her directly.

Meg's heart swelled up and she ran out the door and into the tunnels, her cheeks turning colors, and her stomach flip flopping like a school girl who's crush just checked yes on the note, she holds her face with her hands as she runs and tries not to break her face from smiling so hard.

Meg hears him scoff, she lifts her head to look up. They are on the sofa watching a holiday film. Sure, it's a cheesy one, but she thought Erik was getting into it.

"Is it sarcasm? Is that how you can stand these, I don't want to say film," His teeth are bared and he's smiling angrily. His mask is off, it took Meg over a month to convince Erik to keep his mask off when it was just them, Erik is more at home and relaxed when his mask is off. He is exponentially more arrogant and smug as a consequence because of the newfound confidence.

"Erik, all Christmas films are full of cheese. They're about love, friendship and family. The way the world should be, Orpheus." Meg rests her head against him and he grunts.

"You still have the luxury of youth. You haven't began to know the way the world is. Give it time." He plays with her hair, running his fingers through her locks.

“Erik, I think you’re the only person in world to not like Elf.” Meg honestly thought of all films, this would be one he could enjoy.

“What’s to like?”

Meg is offended by that; she sits up and moves away from him.

“What’s not to like?” She counters.

“The plot is absurd and an insult. The titular Elf is either suffering from severe learning difficulties or has no concept of reality.”

“Elf is the embodiment of belief and the innocence of children and yay, the world is beautiful and great, which is something that we need now more than ever today, because of how bitter and angry everyone around us is. We're all so downtrodden that maybe believing in something like Santa could make things just a little better, to have that innocence back.” Meg shakes her arms, and her voice is just a little squeaky and bordering on anger.

"When you grow up, you'll understand." Erik condescends, he smiles at her and coos. Meg crosses her arms like a toddler about to throw a tantrum.

"Marley's Ghost will come for you one day." Meg turns her head away from, she pouts something fierce, she no longer has interest in the film or Erik's embrace.

Meg has trouble sleeping that night. She tosses, she turns, she huffs and groans. She cannot sleep. Being angry at her Scrooge boyfriend isn't going to make things better. Erik is bitter because of how he had been treated by others. Of course he would become cold and disinterested in the Christmas spirit.

Meg will not let him bring her down to that level. Oh, no. She will raise Erik up to her level. Meg will give Erik the best Christmas he's ever had, even if she has to kill everyone on this Earth to do it.

"It's snowing again." Meg stops and holds out her arms, she spins around, her mouth open and tongue out, she aah's and wags her tongue. 

"It's winter." Erik says in quiet voice. He can't feel the cold anymore. Meg pulls at him and brings him to an empty lot.

"Hey, Angel of Music, let's do it, lets be snow angels." Meg winks and falls backwards. He watches her, he waits for her to get this out of her system. Meg jumps to her feet. Meg leans in close and pats his chest.

"I'm not giving up on you." That sentence was unexpected and he shrinks back at that, he's afraid of her and what that could mean. Meg reaches for one arm, puts over her shoulder, and then brings the over to her waist.

"What are you doing?" Meg begins to lead a dance.

"Doing something I've always to do but couldn't before." Meg answers, she ignores how stiff his movements are.

"There's no music, no rhythm to follow," Erik feels silly, dancing in the dark, in the snow. He is an adult. He should be inside, alone.

You are not alone. Says a voice he knows, that other half of him that offers advice and leads to ruin. The voice that said to tutor Christine, to pursue her, take her, to kill Raoul, and to spare him. The same voice that said that Meg was mostly harmless, have some fun.

"And yet," Meg continues to lead their musicless waltz.

"Why couldn't you do this before?" He tries to capture her attention, Meg shrugs,

"Didn't have you, I mean, I don't have  you, I just, I didn't have a dance partner, and here we are." She bites her lips and she does her best to avoid eye contact.

"I don't entirely hate this," Erik closes his eyes. He can enjoy this, it's stupid, silly, odd, but there is no law or rule that says he cannot dance in the dark during a snowfall with his, his. Erik cannot even agree with himself on what Meg is to him.

"I always wanted to do this and I'm glad it's with you." Meg is happy.

"You're shivering." Erik breaks from the dance and Meg pouts. She is cold. Her coat is thin and she didn't wear a scarf. Erik takes off his red velvet jacket and wraps it around Meg's shoulders.

"We should go back, it's late, and you'll freeze to death." He teases. Meg pouts, she doesn't want to go, but she cannot feel her fingers anymore, she simply nods and let him lead her.

They venture back to Erik's house on the lake in silence. Meg starts the fire and Erik leaves her to it. He goes to his music studio. Ayesha paws and claws at the door for a few minutes before she gives up and goes off to find Meg.

Meg absentmindedly pets the cat as she watches the fire. Tonight could have been better. Erik enjoyed the time with Christine, Raoul was a dick and then something must have set Erik's brood off.

Meg can be just as stubborn as the Phantom. She huffs, blows hair from her eyes and thinks. What can she do? She has a few ideas.

Chapter Text

“You need to wear this.” Meg hands him the ugly Christmas sweater. It has lights that work and are currently blinking. Erik pushes it away from him in quiet disgust.

Erik allowed Meg to pull him from his music and back into the main entertaining room where the fireplace is. She changed into a hideous sweater that features a llama wearing glasses, it appears inebriated.

“I will not.” Erik steps up to the fire and warms his hands. Ayesha is at his feet purring.

“It’s tradition,” Meg pushes the sweater back to him.

“Not mine.”

“It is now.” Meg taps him with the sweater.

“It will not be.” He picks up a stoker and tends the fire.

“I think that if you try something new, you may find that you do actually enjoy it.” Meg drops the childish affect.

“What will I possibly gain from wearing a purposely hideous garment?” Erik is tempted to throw the sweater into the fire.

“I will take your picture and add it to a memories piece, and you can look back in the moment in future, say hey, that was me, that’s something I did.” Meg unfolds the sweater and holds it against him.

“Why would I want to remember being annoyed?” Erik agitation is increasing. He places the stoker back among the other tools.

“It’s not just the feeling, but the moment. You have Ayesha, your precious lady purring at your feet, there is a warm fire, and you are alive Erik. You’re alive and it’s beautiful.” Meg smiles and her eyes tear up, she does not cry, but her eyes are watery and shine.

“And I need this sweater to enjoy this?” He glares it.

“No, but it enhances the flavor.” She shakes it.

Erik stares at the garment for a moment before snatching it. He roughly pulls it over his head and slips his arms through the sleeves.

“Well?”

Meg takes his picture.

--

Meg hands Erik a large mug full of homemade eggnog. He swirls, sniffs it before he gingerly takes a sip. He tilts his head in approval and takes a more generous sip.

“Like?” Meg gives him an unsure thumbs up and he nods.

“I like this tradition; we can do this.”

He leans against the counter and happily drinks it up.

--

Meg throws flour at him. He closes his eyes. He opens them. His eyes burn anger. Meg giggles, she is covered in flour and dried batter. Erik narrows his eyes; this only increases the pitch and laughter.

The kitchen is a mess, the timer is going off, Meg is holding on the counter for support, her lungs burn from the lack of oxygen.

“Erik?” A voice calls out questioningly. Nadir appears. Erik’s head snaps to his friend who suddenly appeared, and he looks to Meg. She bites her lip and shrugs.

“Daroga, what are you doing here?” Erik tries to clean himself off.

“I was invited. What’s this?” He nods at Erik. Before Erik can answer, Meg, steps in between them and holds out her hand.

“Hi! I am Meg, I’m the one who invited you! Would you like a cold or hot beverage?”

--

Nadir, Meg and Erik settle in the room by the fire. Nadir drinks his hot cocoa and Erik has no idea what to do. He drums his fingers along the arm rest of the chair. He did not invite Nadir; he does not know why he is here or what to do.

“I appreciate that you came, I know it was short notice and random,” Meg says, trying to start conversation. Nadir smiles.

“It is good to meet you Miss Giry. Erik told me your name and you dance.” Erik yecchs and shakes his head.

“What else do you need to know? Her blood type?” Erik sneers.

“How’d you meet?” Nadir asks Meg.

“I work at the Opera he haunts.” Meg says not missing a beat, her eyes twinkling. Nadir snorts and coughs up his cocoa.

“So, he was haunting you and decided to go out?” Nadir tries to picture that.

“Daroga,” Erik warns.

“He is in love with my best friend. We interacted more so at her wedding. We danced; he was not terrible. I asked him if he wanted to go out for coffee, he said no, then I asked Christine to ask him for me, and he said yes.” Meg recounts.

“Christine Daae?”

Meg nods.

“The famous Christine.”

“What’s the point of this?” Erik snaps.

“You have a guest invited into your home to share the holiday spirit. Would you like some roasted chestnuts, roasted by the fire, Mr. Khan?” Meg asks politely as she can.

“I haven’t had that before; I think I would.” Meg gets up and goes to the roasting chestnuts.

--

“These aren’t bad,” Erik eats some more. Meg claps her hands together and sighs. This is turning out to be a better night than she had anticipated.

“I even have stuffed dates.” Meg offers a plate to Nadir.

“Stuffed with what?”

“Divinity, it’s a bitch.” Meg smile is plastered on her face, she turns her head to the side and laughs sarcastically.

--

“So, it wasn’t terrible, was it?” Meg asks, as she cleans up the kitchen.

“I enjoy his company, yes. It was nice.” Erik is having difficulty finding the words to express himself.

“See, there is a human who isn’t using you in some insidious manner for personal gain. And we had stuffed dates and polite conversation,” Meg says happily as she waves a spoon around.

“Yes.” Erik says, pursing his lips.

“Told you! Not everyone lives to use and abuse others,” Meg sings. Erik steps behind her and whispers into her, seductively, and entrancingly:

“One out of the entire human population is hardly a victory, my dear.” He tugs at her blond locks.

“One less.”

--

“Ta da! Sexy elf,” Meg winks.

She is wearing a bright green corset and dark green underwear.

She is also wearing a red beanie.

“You’re not an elf. You’re wearing green lingerie and a beanie.” Erik corrects.

“So, you don’t want to receive your special delivery? Oh, okay.” Meg turns around and starts to exit, Erik is fast, he grabs her around the waist and pulls her backwards

--

Erik has been denied the affection and touch of others, for not only is his face repulsive, but his physical touch. His body temperature is cold. As a child his mother thought he was suffering hypothermia and would have the doctor call. They finally understood that Erik has a naturally lower body temperature.

He radiates cold. It is off putting, and the first time he tried to hold Christine’s hand without gloves, she screamed and recoiled in horror. She tore her body from him and threw herself onto her bed and cried until he left her alone.

Christine recovered and apologized later, but the damage had been done. Erik does not take off his gloves when he is with her. When they are sexually intimate, he still is required to be covered with something, Christine still has difficulty with his bare touch.

Marguerite has no such qualms over Erik’s body temperature. She likes his lower body temperature, and since she has no issue with Erik’s body or touch, Erik is selfish and indulges himself with absolute pleasure whenever they are intimate.

He sees himself as an incredibly happy, sleepy engorged spider. Erik is an entirely self-centered lover, and he does not apologize. He has over thirty years of need, want, desire that is owed to him and he intends to collect it all.

Erik enjoys how warm Meg feels. When his lust has been sated, he likes to wrap himself around her and just be. She is a non-lethal human fire. She is warm, she feels good, and it is the closest thing to happy he can think of that does not include the euphoria of creation or Christine.

In fact, Erik does not think of Christine or their lessons and the pain of the time in between them, as much when he is with Meg. It scared him at first. It was betrayal in some ways. He thought of someone else, saw someone else, physical with someone else.

He did not think of the time or the spaces between him and Christine. He found himself thinking of her. Meg is not a particular overwhelming presence when she is on stage with the others, but when she is alone, she has enough personality for twenty people.

She calls him Apollo, and she means it. Meg understands his references to literature. Christine does not.

Sometimes the locks of Meg’s hair escapes from her hair ties and it drives Erik mad, because he cannot focus on anything else, but those few pieces of hair that are no longer in place, in line, where they should be.

Meg is the first one to say, “I love you,” and does not bat an eye when it is not returned. Erik remembers the first time she said it.

She wanted to go hiking in the woods in the dark, Erik can see in the dark and has survivalist skills and wanted him to enjoy a date that was more suited to him.

They went hiking in the dark, she listened to everything Erik said about the vegetation, the different animals, how to track animals, how animals track other animals, he showed her how to build a proper fire, and how to build a shelter, she helped, she did not just stand idle, she was involved.

She did not flinch or squirm when Erik caught, killed, and skinned their dinner. She held his hand, it was after dinner, and they were laying on their bedroll watching the stars.

She turned on her side and reached out to touch his face,

“I love you,” she meant it, Erik knew she meant it, he could not speak, he forgot how to breath and math. She smiled and moved closer to him, she closed her eyes and drifted to sleep

Erik is sick of everyone pointing out how much Meg loves him, and they know he is the unfeeling monster using and leading on someone young, vulnerable, and impressionable. He is a predator, and he needs to leave her alone. Raoul repeats the narrative, Christine stopped, but Raoul keeps it up.

The truth is, Erik is in love with her, but he is a fucking coward and he can take the words, but he cannot say them. If he says the words, Meg will turn to dust, she will fade away. She will fade away and die, and Erik will be left alone.

This Christmas is hard because he knows he will betray himself and say the words. Meg is putting every effort into making this a good holiday for him, he is neither blind nor ignorant.

--

Chapter Text

When Erik was a child he would sit by the fire, that’s where Sasha liked to spend most of her time, if she were not playing or seeking attention, she would lie by the fire in her small bed. Erik would read or sketch as he sat with his precious doggo.

Ayesha offers some of the same love and comfort Sasha did. She likes to lay on his lap, she acts more like a puppy than a typical cat. She tries to follow Erik everywhere; she is possessive and territorial. She is starting to tolerate Meg, as she is around more often now, but Christine, Ayesha is still weary of and likes to fuck with her.

Ayesha looks damn ridiculous in the elf outfit. How on earth did Meg manage to get his precious to wear it, without losing fingers? She does not look terrible, so Erik has allowed the costume to remain.

Erik pets his precious as he watches the fire. Meg joins his side and  hands him a large book, not a book, something else.

“Your gift,” Meg explains, she flips it open, it’s those memories she was talking about.

“People make these to keep a record of sorts of good memories.” Meg peers over as Erik looks through it. There are several images. Erik, Christine, some opera people, letters, notes.

Meg taps something.

“That, my Phantom, is from Christine’s diary, the first time she met you, she wrote that.”

Erik feels warm as he reads Christine words of excitement and love. He flips to the next page.

--

There is something odd, a feeling that Erik cannot quite shake. He’s enjoying this book of memories, as Meg put it, but there is a strange sensation that is eating, gnawing away at Erik, he cannot put a reason behind it or explanation.

Something is not quite right here, and he does not know why or what it could be.

He’s lost going through the book. The fire has gone out, Ayesha is asleep, and Meg has left, Erik is not aware of any of these things, all that matters is he is happy and lost in precious moments. He lived and he is glad for it.

--

“The park, for what purpose?” Erik is growing tired of these trips to places outside the Opera. He has no need to shop, so being away from the Opera and his home are not warranted and unnecessary.

“A romantic carriage ride with someone you love, is so festive and Holiday-y.” Meg smiles. Sure enough, a horse drawn carriage trots over.

“Really?” Erik was not expecting this. He opens the little door and is prepared to help Meg climb in, but she has disappeared.

“Erik?”

Erik turns around, Christine waves, she is hesitant. She nods at the horse before she runs over.

“I don’t know what to say,” Christine accepts Erik’s help as she climbs into the carriage.

“I’ve never done this,” Christine says as she moves closer to Erik.

“We have, once.” Erik reminds her, he runs his hands through her hair, and she leans against him, her head on his shoulder, Erik takes her free hand, their fingers interlock.

“That wasn’t a good time for us. This is better. It’s beautiful.” Something bumps into Erik’s heels, he bends down, it’s a bouquet of flowers, with a note attached written in Meg’s script:  For Christine, you’re welcome, Lothario.

“For me?” Christine takes the flowers; Erik crumples the note and pockets it. He nods.  She smells them and smiles at Erik.

“Even Raoul doesn’t know my favorite. It frightens me, how well we seem to know each other. Sometimes I think we’re soulmates, that find each throughout the years. How old is your soul?” Christine breathes in the flowers sweet perfume, Erik cannot speak, his mouth is dry, his hands and legs are vibrating.

Christine and Erik get lost in each other and time. They are stopped and the door to the small carriage opens.

“Here we are.” The man points to something ahead. Candles surround a picnic. Erik helps Christine down, and he leads her to the illuminated picnic.

“This is, I don’t know, I thought you had this in you, but I didn’t think,” Christine loses her ability to speak.

“You planned this?” Christine is on the verge of tears.

--

Meg is tired. She had to shag ass all the way to the picnic location, light the candles and keep watch to make sure no fires started. Sweat wiped from brow! Meg exhales, salutes, and has a hop to her step. Meg does not care who makes Erik the happiest, if he is happy, and if that means to let Erik go and let him have Christine tonight, so be it.

Raoul understands, he was bitter, loud, and angry, but he eventually came around.

“If you love something, let it go. She’ll come beck to you, I know she will.” Meg booped his nose and that was it.

--

Something smacks Erik’s brain and his heart; he clutches his chest and then he screams nonsense. Christine is taken aback at his noise. Erik looks around, he needs to get out of here. He blows out the candles, he grabs Christine’s hand and he takes her back to the carriage.

--

Erik runs/stumbles into his living room. Ayesha greets him happily, he pushes her away, he grabs the book and scans the images, looking for something, he flips through the pages, he scans them again and again.

He knows now what had been bothering him: Meg is not featured in the scrapbook.

She made it for him, captured his better moments with Christine, included copies of his threatening and patronizing notes to the managers, cast pictures, moments from the Operas he liked, reviews and news articles.

Meg is not in any of this. Not a single mention or reference visual or otherwise.

Erik feels sick, he sets the scrapbook aside. He grabs his head, throws off his mask, his wig, he is shaking. He’s crying, he can feel the tears burn his eyes, and he does not care, picks up the scrapbook and he’s makes to throw it into the fire, he hesitates.

Ayesha is meowing madly, she rubs against his legs, trying to get attention, to calm him. He drops the book.

Meg received a note. She laughs a little and looks around the dressing room. Meg never receives notes or gifts. She knows it’s from Erik without having to read it. She is not sure why he would send her a note.

She smiles, her face hurts from it, she cannot help it. Erik wants to see her after her performance. She has been instructed to come to him directly after she leaves the stage, no time for a curtain call, no. the moment she has finished her last dance step, she is to go to him.

Meg takes extra care with her hair and makeup just in case he’s watching tonight. Meg cannot stop smiling, some of the makeup looks a little odd, but she does not care.

--

Meg follows the instructions, as soon as she finishes her last dance step, she leaves the crowd, she grabs her coat and she uses Christine's mirror to start her journey, she's never rowed so fast in her life. She does the magic to unlock the door, she finds him waiting for her, he grabs her wrist and yanks her towards him and he leads her along.

"You took your time," he drawls, Meg eeps and shakes her head.

"I did what you said to do, I left as soon as I finished,"  Meg tries to keep up with Erik, long legs, long strides. Short dancer, have to work harder to keep with his natural pace.

They stop outside a door, he opens it, pushes the door open and and turns on the light, he nods for her to go inside. Meg hesitates, but she walks forward inside the room.

"You left before I could give you your Christmas gift." He breaths into her ear and Meg is confused. It is a bedroom. The celling is painted blue, the walls are green, the bedspread is a floral print. The dresser across from the bed has a sketch, no, not sketch, sketch isn't the right word.

It's Meg's image though. Detailed. The lines of her face, the corners of her smile, her eyes are bright and expressive. Meg's not seen herself through the eyes of others and she's sure she didn't pose for the sketch, she looks to Erik for an explanation, reassurance this is real.

He hands her a small wooden box and lifts the top, the Waltz of the Flowers, plays. Meg cannot feel her legs and sits down on the floor.

"This is what I hear when I'm with you. It was damned niggling in the beginning." Erik kneels down and he snaps the box shut as Meg reaches for it.

"Because it was already written?" She takes the box and he nods.

"I realize this is not the drawer or storage container you initially asked for, but I think this will suffice." He watches her, trying gage her reaction and feelings.

"I needed a place to put my things, you kept grumbling about me leaving my underwear on your violin." Meg is finding it difficult to breath, she opens the music box again.

"And now you have a place and an entire room for your belongings." He gestures around the room. Something catches Meg's eye, she moves beyond Erik and crawls forward.

"That's my lamp from my bedroom. How'd it get here? Wait! That's my doll collection!"

"Is it?" Erik turns around.

"Erik."

"Yes?" He drawls, he looks at his fingers and then back to her with a bored expression.

"You moved all of my things over here while I was at the Opera."

"No," He crawls forward and boops her nose and smiles, " I had my man Jules do it."

"My Christmas present is, us living together?" 

He nods,

"You asked me once if I wanted you to come back."

"I remember. I don't remember us having a conversation about me living with you," Meg says, this time tapping Erik's noseless face.

"I cut through the red tape. There is no need for a conversation, you were always going to live here." Meg is wondering how much of the Phantom she is speaking to or if it's equal parts.

"Most couples have a conversation about cohabitation."

Erik cups her face," do you want to be like most couples, my dear?" 

Meg scrunches up her face in disgust and shake her head best she can.

"Then shut up," He says as sweetly as one can before he kisses her lips.

Eventually they found themselves by the fire. He brings out the scrapbook and Meg opens it, smiling stupidly at him.

"I found a fault in this," he says in a grave manner. Meg frowns.

"Fault? What happened? Did a page tear? Image or something come loose?" Meg looks through the images to find something of the like, Erik closes the book.

"My precious idiot, you gave me a book that's supposed to include memories of my life and you forgot to include yourself." He slides the book over to her.

"I don't want an incomplete project or gift. I finish everything I start. I expect no less from you." 

Meg slides the scrapbook back to him.

"Next year. The scrapbook is accurate for how you felt all year. You want me to include myself next time? I can do that."

"That carriage ride and the picnic," Erik tugs at Meg's locks.

"Yeah?"

"Thank you," He smiles, and Meg feels a kind of pride swirl around. His features change abruptly and he yanks at her hair, Meg leans forward and yelps. She rubs her scalp.

"Do not do it again. It was another lie and manipulation, Christine and I cannot afford anymore in our relationship." Erik pulls her into an embrace. He inhales her sweet perfume and he is happy. He enjoyed the last few days and he is not alone. He feels brave. If it's only once that he will say it, he can do it now.

"Marguerite," Erik pulls some of her hair back and his lips tickle her ear, her skin reacts to her touch," I," Erik pauses, several of the alarms for his traps have set off. Ayesha jumps from surface to sofa. She is yowling and hissing.

"Are you expecting company?" Meg asks as Erik lifts up from the floor and he shakes his head, he searches for his mask, Meg finds it and hands it to him. He adjusts it and exhales, he rolls his shoulders and Meg hugs herself. The Phantom is waking up, and he is going to want to play.

Merry fucking Christmas.

Chapter Text

“You need to apologize,” Christine has her arms crossed and she is not letting Raoul into their home. Christine’s features are hard, lacking her usual gentleness. Raoul is taken aback by this stark contrast. This is not the face of his beloved wife.

“Apologize?” Raoul licks his lips and rubs the back of his neck. She moves and he is blocked from entering, she means business.

“You were awful at the Christmas party. Giving Erik an Oboe for Christmas? What is wrong with you? That was not funny!” Christine stomps her foot and Raoul winces.

“It was a White Elephant party.” Raoul shrugs, Christine raises her arms to hit him and he recoils, but she lowers her hand.

“I need the two men of my life to get along! If you cannot even be in the same room with each other, then our marriage is not going to work.”

“I can tolerate being in the same room,” Raoul says quietly, looking at the ground. Christine edges soften and she moves forward and reaches for him.

“I will tell you the same thing I told him, I love him and he is staying in my life, if you cannot accept that then move along,” Raoul struggles with staying his emotions, Christine kisses his lips chaste and he becomes stiff, his body relaxes and returns some of the kiss, she breaks away.

“I will send him a note of apology. I will have Meg’s mother deliver it as any other note,” Raoul smiles, Christine shakes her head.

“No. This is too great of an offense. You must face him.” Before Raoul can offer his rebuttal, Christine kisses him and touches him in places he likes to be touched.

Raoul did not pay much attention to the Persian when they navigated through the tunnels and beyond when they came to rescue Christine. Nor did Raoul pay much attention when Christine led him through the tunnels when they came to catsit. He held his wile's hand and she led him through the dark.

He regrets his wandering mind. He did not get too far after the boat. Maybe a few hundred yards before his found himself hanging upside down. It is dark, he is cold, the blood is rushing to his head, the netting is ridiculous. His fingers cannot go through it, the spaces are too small.

He prays to God, who art thou in heaven, to kill him mercilessly and quickly before he is found by the monster who lurks this path. Well, he thinks, his mother told him that sometimes the answer is, “no,” and it seems to be one of those times.

The light from the lantern heightens Raoul’s terror. Th shadows and the limited illumination make Erik look taller, grander. Erik is a proper monster from one of those old silent German Expressionist films. He lowers the lantern to the ground, his movements are quick.

Meg joins a moment later, her affect solemn. Meg is tired, she looks at Raoul, and he tries to reach out to her. Her eyes are glazed over. Meg is entranced by the dust that is dancing in the light of the lantern, she reaches out, plays with the particles, conducting their movements.

The Phantom is dancing around his caught prize, he's growling/purring and shaking, pushing the net that holds Raoul, who is trying in vain to move so he is not touched by the mad creature. Raoul yelps as the Phantom starts to hit him.

The Phantom is hopping with excitement. Meg is removed from her trance, she looks over and in a stoic voice, “cut him down, Hephaestus,” she turns back to the dust, she tilts her head and sways.

The Phantom turns to her, he slips his hand into a pocket and without looking what he’s doing, cut’s Raoul down, who cries out in pain from the impact. The Phantom drops to Raoul’s level and rolls him around and squeals. He smacks, pinches, prods, pokes the trapped man. He holds onto him as he jumps up and down. Raoul closes his eyes tightly and thinks of better places, and Christine. He mumbles a prayer and his wife's name, desperate for comfort and pace.

“We should take him to the lair,” Meg points ahead. The Phantom grabs the netting, and he drags Raoul along, Meg carries the lantern, lighting the way.

Meg sighs. This is not how she wanted to spend Christmas Eve. She should have walked away, handed the lantern over and walked to the boat. The Phantom is too mad now to notice, to understand, and that is all she needs. Meg turns to glance behind; she could still go.

Raoul’s pitiful cries of pain and misery bring her back to life. Meg lifts the lantern, and she feels sick. Her body hurts from the guilt. She could do something, Meg looks at the ground as they walk, perhaps she finds a rock, hits Erik, takes the knife and cut Raoul loose, he would flee.

Meg blinks and brings her hand to protect her eyes, they are inside now, Meg sets the lantern aside, makes sure the door closes and she exhales. This is not what she had planned.

“It’s Christmas Eve, why don’t you hang him by the chimney with care and he can be your living stocking,” Meg says sarcastically, and it takes her a minute to realize she spoke, and another to realize that is what Erik is doing.

Meg and Erik stand by the fire. Raoul is hung with care as suggested by Meg, she shakes her head in silent misery. Erik is mad and she's in love with him. She balls her hands into fists and squeezes until her nails break the skin. Her legs are growing weak. Raoul is whimpering.

Meg looks over as Erik puts his arm around her shoulder and pulls her closer, she glances back to Raoul, she chortles. She covers her mouth with her hands in shame and horror, but she cannot help it. It is kind of funny. She scolds herself.

"It's not too festive," Meg complains. She does not know why she says that. She cannot look at Raoul anymore. Erik, inspired, moves to the side of the sofa and then to the other room, after a minute he returns and he steps up to Raoul, who fusses, protests and tries in vain to fight and to escape.

Erik puts a poinsettia flower behind Raoul's ear and then places an elf hat onto his head. Erik takes a step back to examine his work, he frowns, wags his finger in disapproval and he starts over.

Erik makes sure that the coat of glue is thin and smooth, he takes handful of glitter and throws it into Raoul’s glued cover face. One side of Raoul’s face is covered with green, the other side is red.

At Meg's suggestion he took the time to spell out his name with sequins across Raoul’s forehead. Meg hands Erik a mug of hot cocoa and with a serious expression tells him, “now remember, in the morning you will have to let him go. You can’t keep him; Christine will want him back.”

With his free hand, Erik pinches Raoul's cheek and turns to address Meg," He belongs  to me, she is allowed to play house,"

Raoul makes a noise of protest, Meg drinks from her mug.

Meg thinks back to Halloween, and she vaguely remembers a face and the strong sense of belonging. She traces her fingers along her arm, being held in someone’s arms, dancing in the dark during rain or snow, because it is right, and they rule the universe.

“Give me your lasso, I want the moon,” Meg says dreamily. Her glaze over and she gets lost in her fantasies.

“The moon? I think we can do better than that, my dear.” Meg blinks back to life and focus as he kisses her cheek, with just the softest of touches, she touches her cheek, her skin turns red from heat. She drinks more chocolatey goodness.

"What do you think?" Erik grabs Meg by the shoulders and moves her so she is in front of Raoul, he looks at her, waiting for her approval.

"Is this project complete?" Erik nods, Meg taps her lips, turns her head, then she brings her hands up, she uses her fingers to frame Raoul's face and tilts her head, she turns to Erik.

"I like this one more than, 'Bad Haircut,' the Christmasness makes it truly unique. Brilliant work, Apollo." Meg kisses her fingers and meawh's.

"Not fine?" He runs his fingers through her hair and mms.

"Not fine, it's fantastically stupenderificuslly magnifique." Raoul glares and tries make a rude gesture, Meg beams her best smile. He continues to glare.

Erik holds her close, he rests his chin against the top of her head," where should we stuff the gifts and trinkets?" Raoul's eyes widen and he eeps, Meg face pales and Erik smirk's darkly.

Erik takes Meg's hand, he leads her outside out to the lake, to the boat. She's being sent away, she closes her eyes and smiles sadly. She knew this would happen soon enough. He does not have enough room in his heart for her, he never has. You can only love so much, her mother told her that once:

"You only have so much room in your heart to love, Meg. Sometimes it's only enough for one, and sometimes that doesn't extend outside yourself." Her mother has lived a hard life and she has scars that coat her heart like skin.

"If that's how to love properly, then I'll do it wrong proudly." Meg means it, her mother writes her off.

Meg shakes the memories from her head.  Erik uses his thumb to wipe the tears from her, Meg did not know she was crying, she touches her eyes.

"Why are we crying?" Meg blinks several times, she does not know. She turns to look at the boat.

"I only want you to be happy," more tears fall as she speaks. Meg wipes her eyes and curses herself for being such a baby.

“Here,” he offers his hand, Meg places her palm over his and he pulls her close, and they enter a dance position. Meg did not expect that. She does not understand what is happening at first.

"I realize that your fantasy included snowfall, but is that a true desideratum?" He huffs with playful irritation.  Meg's legs go numb and he catches her before the fall.

"Stop that," His golden eyes burn and he helps her back into a proper dancing position. They're dancing in the dark. He took her outside by the lake to dance with her, in the dark. Meg bites her lips until it bleeds, this is really happening.

"As long as I'm with you, it's perfect," Meg sucks the blood from her lips," weather irrelevant,"

"Here," Erik lays out his long black coat onto the ground and gestures for Meg to take a seat. He then goes over to the boat, Meg turns and watches him with increased curiosity, he returns with a bottle and two glasses. Meg is pretty damn sure she got rid of all the alcohol. He has hiding places. Meg makes a mental note to find them.

He sits down, he pops the cork effortless with his thumb and fills the two glasses, he offers Meg one, and she takes it. 

"Merry happy?" Meg shrugs, not sure what to toast.

"The future," He raises his glass, Meg brings hers forward, he brings his back," our  future," he moves the glass forward again and they clink and drink. Erik finishes his drink in one go, he places the glass off to the side and then lies down on his back,  folding his arms behind to use a pillow of sorts, Meg does the same.

Erik props himself up on his elbow and turns to face Meg, she turns her head and changes her position towards him. He reaches out, he traces the curves of her face, his fingertips trace her lips, he leans into her, his lips softly, teasingly touch her ear.

"Marguerite Giry, I," Meg closes her and she feels the universe end and begin, her palms are sweaty, she scrunches a bit of coat with her hand," I want-I need you," Erik is having trouble with words, he licks his teeth and swallows back pride," Iloveyou," the words slur together and he's out of breath.

He realizes he's finally said those words, he holds on to Meg tightly, fighting an imagined enemy and keeping her from turning into dust.

Meg and Erik find their way back into the house on the lake, they once again settle by the fire. Erik sets up a little picnic in front of the fire, Raoul is still pouting and fighting.

"Angel, what did you do with my husband!"

Chapter Text

“Should I have done something?” Erik asks as innocently as the Phantom can. He drinks from his mug and watches the flames. Christine cries out and tends to her husband, she moans in misery and tries to get him free. Erik watches with mild amusement.

“Let him go, Apollo.” Meg pleads. Erik does not want to, and he makes no movement. He continues to watch his angel paw at the fop. Meg stands up.

“I’ll look for knives,” Meg exhales and starts to move, Erik catches her wrist and pulls back down into a seated position.

“It’s not Christmas yet,” he teases, and Meg fights the agreement. This is her fault; her stupid mouth could not keep closed.

“Let him go!” Christine cries out.

“This is the festive flavor of the time you abducted Christine like she was Persephone.” Meg says and curses herself, Erik is amused to a degree, at that.

“Who?” Christine asks despite the situation.

“And that’s why you’re not Persephone.” Meg tilts her chin up and closes her eyes.

“Erik, please!” Christine is still trying to get Raoul free.

“But Santa hasn’t arrived yet,” Erik says, pouting his lips behind his mask. Christine is on the verge of tears.

“Erik,” Meg looks into his eyes, and he growls. He stands up, his movements are fast, Christine did not see him reach for a blade, but soon enough Raoul is free from the netting and Christine and Raoul embrace properly.

“He trespassed onto my property, he is lucky this is all I did,” Erik snarls, his teeth clenched, he moves back to Meg.

“He came to apologize to you!” Christine helps Raoul stay on his feet. Erik scoffs.

“Not accepted, but you may leave. I trust you remember your way back?” He looks at his gloves and then back to his lovely soprano. Christine huffs and leads Raoul with care out of the lair turned home.

“I shall miss my living stocking,” Erik laments. He finishes his hot cocoa. Meg rubs his back comfortingly.

“Oh, come now. Dry those tears, you’re bound to catch another one soon.” Erik holds onto her chin and uses his thumb to caress her.

“I love you,” Erik finds it hurts less to say the second time. Meg closes her eyes.

--

The next morning Erik feels odd. He forgot something or someone and it is gnawing at him. What was the name of the that thing he knows? It is on the tip of his tongue, kind of feeling.

He tends to the fire; they fell asleep together on the sofa. Meg is still sleeping.

Meg shivers in her sleep. She never recoils or shows any signs of discomfort or revulsion when she and Erik are intimate or when they just lie together in each other’s embrace, but when Meg is asleep, she shivers, her skin is cold, and Erik is damn sure it is because of him.

He thoughts are unleashed, and the river is wide and wild. He cannot keep anything back. He grabs his head, and he tries to think clearly.

Meg shivers and moans, Erik looks for and places his coat over her like a blanket. He watches her for a moment.

Meg asked him once about fantasies and he told her one in detail, that involved the little sultana from Persia, and then he explained who she was and all the ways and moments he made her smile and laugh.

Meg stayed.

He told her how murder is another art form he had perfected, she did not bat an eye or flinch. She did not scold him, call him a killer or sick. She frowned and held his hand.

“I’m sorry the world turned away, but you’re not alone. You don’t have to survive anymore; you can live now.”

Christine told him to stop when he tried telling her, she cried and begged him to stop. She did not want to think of Erik in such dark lights and shadows, he stopped, changed the subject and they never talked about Persia again.

Meg moans softly and then coughs. Erik is sure she will wake up, but she remains asleep. Meg holds onto the coat turned blanket and pulls up to her chin, she sighs happily in comfort.

Meg made him a scrapbook of good memories of this past year and did not include herself. Meg has no value for herself, Erik did that. He made her feel so insignificant she did not bother, did not even consider including herself.

Meg rubs her nose and yawns; she slowly sits up and rubs her eyes. She yawns again.

“Beauty awakes.” He says, Meg smacks lips and stretches.

“Pressies now?” Meg has an excited childlike glow to her. Erik nods, Meg squeals with delight

Meg ooh’s at the book. It’s a collection of ghost stories, old ones. She has not heard or read these, she is excited and opens the book to start.

“I would have preferred to have done something more personal, more creative, but I did not know we would be spending the holiday together or that gifts were to be exchanged.” Erik is not sure why he feels defensive. Meg looks up.

“This is perfect, you know I’m all about ghosts.” Meg smiles and then goes back to the page. Meg looks back up and closes the book.

“You have Sad Face, Apollo, why?” Erik touches his masked face and then looks at her.

“It’s my resting face.” He says playfully.

“Erik, you don’t have to be sad all the time. It must be exhausting, to live that way. Stop it.”

“I know there are better places for you to be, better company to have,” Erik trails off. He looks into the fire, trying to turn off feeling.

“Better to who? I am happy here. How old is your soul? Tell me the secrets of time and about your tea with infinity.” Meg’s poetic speech drives him to places he does not think he’d ever go, years ago, if you asked him if he would ever have the love of another, he’d be bitter, and yet here he is with her.

“I can’t even with you!” Meg places the book next to her and gets to her feet. She leaves the room, Erik watches until she fades from view. He turns back to the fire.

Something taps him, he turns, and something is thrown into his face, shiny specks of dust. He blinks several times.

“Ha! Glitter! You cannot be sad if you have glitter on you! Embrace it! Feel it!” Meg rubs and spreads the glitter all over his mask.

“The music of glitter,” Meg sings, Erik grabs her and spins her around in his arms.

"In all your fantasies, did they ever include this?"

Meg shakes her head and boops his masked nose.

"No, but that's why this is better."

"Last Christmas I stayed in my cat's basket," he runs his fingers through Meg's hair, she says 'coffin', he ignores her," I was hardly conscious of anything, I must take suicidal amounts of morphine to feel it now, I only had my Ayesha and now," Erik trails off.

"Glitter," Meg touches his mask and spreads more of it, he takes her hand in his.

"When I'm with Christine everything is music and I am god." Erik breathes, he closes his eyes and moans softly, thinking of their time together.

"Christine is magical," Meg agrees.

"When I'm with you, I'm space and it is spring. It's brighter than technicolor. You call me Apollo. How many times, has he seen her, in the shadows, on Olympus, and instead of going to her, he walks away, or by. Never going through with it, what if? What if he said hello? Eris and Apollo, their story could have rivaled Hades and Persephone, if they only took the time to see each other, to say hello. What might have been?"

Meg closes her eyes and she can see it, their story unfold. Apollo sees her, Eris in the shade, she turns and he walks over, and they, Meg opens her eyes, but they never were, as far as she knows.

"You persisted when I turned away," Erik says, he is glad for it.

"I refused your refusal."

He kisses the top of her head.

"Thank you for Christmas, it was more than tolerable."

"The Tolerable Christmas is my favorite."

Erik rests his chin against her, and in this moment he is happy and he does not fight it.

"Next Christmas, we'll set the world on fire."

"With the glitter," Meg adds.

Chapter Text

The Opera house is a different breed of animal when there is no production. It feels like a stranger in some ways and an old friend in others. The New Year’s Gala is quite the deal. The managers previous and current add their own flavor and love to the festivities.

Ice sculptures. Moncharmin loves ice sculptures and it is a sight to behold. The main piece takes up much of the free space in the grand foyer and the guests must go around it to get up the steps.

“Why did you agree to pay for that?” Christine covers her face with her mask as she speaks. Raoul smiles wide as he greets men who he does not know and through corner of his mouth he speaks quietly,

“I thought they were talking about food,” Raoul turns his head slightly Christine’s way.

“When did you get a cat?” Sorelli asks more loudly than needed. Meg is holding Ayesha, who is wearing a new plaid sweater and is trying to get out of the human’s embrace.

“She’s my hot date!” Meg moves Ayesha up and down, who yowls and bites at Meg.

“You hate cats,” Sorelli narrows her eyes and Meg smiles. Christine and Raoul make their way over.

“I do, it’s my boyfriend’s cat and we got into a little bit of tiff, so I responded by stealing his cat.” Meg shows off Ayesha.

“You catnapped Ayesha?” Christine makes a move to pet the feline, who hisses and yowls. Christine jumps backwards. So much for progress.

“Ayesha?” Sorelli arches a brow, someone in the distance proves more interesting. She waves her hand and walks away.

“You stole his cat?” Christine is still trying to process this.

“Does anyone have a noose?” Raoul asks dryly. He looks around, Christine slaps his arm.

“We are going to enjoy ourselves.” Meg hugs Ayesha, who is still trying to get free.

--

Meg runs up the steps to the roof and is about to burst through the doors but something holds her back, instead she gently pushes the door and peers through the space.

Carlotta is talking to the statue of Apollo. She appears to have finally snapped. Meg moves forward slightly.

“It is cruel! You ask for too much! I would have given you my blood!” Carlotta starts an unintelligent rant in Spanish. Her voice is squeaky and raw with emotion.

Meg looks at Ayesha,” I think she wants to be alone and maybe we should hug her?” Ayesha lifts her head and disagrees. Meg shakes her head and pets the top of Ayesha’s head.

“You are a black cancer! You seep inside my heart, my brain and you take, and take, your hunger is insatiable!” Carlotta is spitting with rage.

"I was a fool to want you back! You are ugly!" Carlotta shrieks like a banshee.

Ayesha hisses and Meg can no longer keep hold of her. Ayesha jumps from Meg’s arms and runs straight for Carlotta and attacks her shins. Carlotta screams and tries to get the cat to stop.

“Ayesha, no!” Meg cries out and runs over and tries to scoop the angry cat into her arms. Carlotta curses in Spanish.

“What in the name of heaven? You little idiot!” Carlotta hisses and knocks Meg out of the way as she storms off. Meg stares at the cat, she lifts her head and meows, it is calmer and lies down on the pavement. Meg kneels to the cat and faintly hears the music.

“I can accept a lot of things about you. But dating Carlotta? Christine I can handle. She makes sense, she's a sexy lingonberry, and pretty. Carlotta is squeaky, mean, and a bitch. She put rocks in my shoes. I don’t know. I think that is a deal breaker,” Meg stands and walks around the statue and peers around the corner, searching.

“I’ll have my people send for my things,” Meg jumps and ‘ah-hah’s,’ and then pouts. Nope. Empty space. Meg hangs her head.

“Everyone has a past. She was fit and pretty once.” That sends shivers down Meg’s spine, something moves through her hair, she turns, no one.

“Is it the Phantom’s policy to be intimately involved  with every soprano from Opera Populaire?” Meg keeps the humor and teasing to her voice.

“I have a type; it’s evolved throughout the years.” Meg grabs at her head, the constant spinning, turning, trying to find the body that belongs to the voice is making her dizzy.

“I guess I can’t really judge, I want to, aah” Meg pushes off from the statue with more force than expected and nearly falls off the roof, something caches her in time.

“I’d prefer not to court a specter. The lack of physical contact puts such a damper on copulation.”  His embrace is tight, and Meg feels safe.

“But what would that make me? The Phantom-ess of the Opera? The things I could do! Think of it! The partnership! We could literally rule this place. I’ll do all the magic blood stuff, and you stay you.” Meg sighs in bliss as she imagines the chaos they could unleash.

“We’ll do that in our next life,” Erik nuzzles her neck. Meg is brave and spins around, breaking his embrace.

“Don’t say words you don’t mean.”

Erik cups her face,” if you’re not by my side in the next life, I will hunt you down.” There’s fire in those golden eyes, Meg steps forward and kisses him and the fireworks explode in the sky.

“We’re each other’s first kiss for the new year. That’s a very normal couple thing.” Meg scrunches her face up in disgust.

“I usually start the new year off by killing someone and preserving their corpse. The cost of cat food can get so expensive and the brand I use tends to sell out.” Erik says this very matter-of-factly.

“Oh,” Meg nods and then the words process.

“Wait, I’ve been feeding her human flesh? This is, you being dark and morbid and sardonic, right? Not serious. You don’t do that, do you?” Meg looks at Ayesha and then Erik.

Erik says nothing, he taps her nose then moves towards Ayesha, who jumps into his arms.

“Right? Jest?” Meg watches Ayesha and Erik affection for each other. He coos, she rubs her face against his mask.

Meg feels that strange dizzy sensation again, Erik walks by and stops.

“I would never,” he walks into the shadows. Meg is certain he is smirking behind that mask.

"Happy New Year, Meg," Meg slaps her cheek lightly and runs towards the shadows.

The End

(Happy belated New Year)