Summary: "He was watching her. He always does. She is not beautiful, or tall, nor does she have the voice of an angel, like Christine. But he is still enchanted by her."
A/N: Eh, just a short, one-shot Erik/Meg drabble thing, writtenafter I read some really good E/M may be more in the future, depending on how people like this one. And, BTW, if you want some really good E/M fics, check out Lemony Apple. (She RULES) And this is based on Gaston Leroux's Phantom, which explains why Meg has black hair and will be Empress.
From the rafters, a shadowy figure looks down at the stage. A lone ballerina practices, and he stares at her, transfixed. He is watching her. He always does. She is not beautiful, or tall, nor does she have the voice of an angel like Christine. But he is still enchanted by her.
He examines her. No, she is not a beauty, he thinks to himself. She is small and skinny, with long, dark hair and dark eyes. She is pretty, he'll give her that, but her beauty pales compared to Christine. He chuckles to himself. No, her beauty does not pale in comparison to Christine's; it darkens. Maybe it's the way her black hair tumbles elegantly down her white dress, or the way her eyes close in concentration when she dances that makes her so appealing.
She has a passion, he thinks. She is a good dancer, better than Christine, and she will someday make it big. Perhaps not in dancing (he remembers that she is to be Empress), but she will get there. He even considers helping her. After all, Christine is gone, why can't he help Little Marguerite? He may not be a good dancer, but he could help her.
But why do you want to help her? A small voice whispers in his ear. Remember Christine? She didn't want you. You're a monster, and you can't love. But I don't love her. He thinks. He tries to convince himself that he did not love Little Meg. Meg? Did I just call her Meg? He shakes his head. No, he was most defiantly not in love with Meg Giry. There goes that dratted 'Meg' again, he thinks, somewhat annoyed that he is using her informal name that he hears the other ballerinas calling her all the time.
Silently, he slinks away, back to the catacombs. His foot hits something, and a metal bar falls to the stage, a few feet from were Meg is dancing. She stops, hearing the metal clunk and looks up to where it has fallen. He looks down at her, to see that she is staring up at him. She is not scared, he notes, silently. In fact, she smiles softly at him. He gives her a curt not, then glides away.