NESSA'S POV
"Ness come on. You need to leave your room. Couping up in here won't find Meg."
"GET OUT DAD!! YOU GUYS DON'T CARE ABOUT MEG OR YOU WOULD HAVE FOUND HER BY NOW!!!!"
"You know that isn't true! I love Meg like a daughter and not finding her is killing the rest of us too!"
"UGGGGHHHHH GET THE 'EFF OUT!!!!"
He stormed down the stairs and I broke down into sobs. When would I learn to control this mouth of mine? Meg had been gone for 4 days now and no traces of her were found.
We had woken up the next morning after they shot the mayor and JJ told us Meg never came back from the bar. We called her phone and lo and behold it says this number is in longer in use. We go around the city and we cant find hide nor tail of our bucksome blond. I start to worry and dad trys to convince me she probably went back to Quantico already.
I hope so and we travel back. We get there and Penny tells us the last place Megs phone worked was somewhere in Wizamania. I really begin to freak out so dad takes me home. Flash forward to now and were up to date.
I finally stand up and regret it badilly. My stomach already felt like lead. Now it fills like lead filled with helium. I make a dash to the restroom and am violently sick. I rest my head on the basin. I see something move out the corner of my eye. I turn and see Jack standing behind me holding a glass of water.
"Why thank you Jack."
"Bethy told me to bring her that all last week while you were away. She said she had to run a test to be sure though. It involved peeing on a stick according to her." He started laughing and I gulped my water. Did he just imply what I think he did?]
Anyways I should be focused on Meg. She had vanished off the place of the earth. Just like Gideon had. It hurt I admit to think she could have just left us like that. I thought she cared for me more than that. I know I cared for her that much. I couldn't think of one person who would abduct her though. The rest of the team found it more likely she left on her own free will. But I know it isn't true and I will prove it to them.
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MEG'S POV
I woke slowly, and drowsy, and for a minute, I didn't even question where I was.
Until I tried to move.
I sat forward, but my arms were glued behind me, as if chained....
I turned and stared. Black, thick chains jutted from my wrists, to a bolt low on the wall. I groaned. I looked down, and thanked God my dress was still on. I wiggled slightly, and lay back down to give the chains slack. Thanks to this, my phone fell out from it's place in my brasserie. It was off. I pulled my leg as high as it would go, flashing any one who was watching from the South side of the stone room, and pressed the PWR button. It began to glow to life. Where ever I was, I hoped someone knew I was missing. My GPS would be turning on. They could find me
I quickly surveyed the room, looking for traces to explain where I was or how I got here. Nothing. Just a dusty room with no windows. It was damp and cold, so I assumed I was underground. No bed. No food. Just a dusty floor. My phone clicked on.
"Hello, Meg," I heard a voice say loudly. I stared.
"H-Hello..." I said, sleepily. Then, looking forward, I saw it.
A slick, black camera, with it's green light on.
"Meg," he said again. A man.
"Where is the camera broadcasting to?" I asked. "Besides you."
I knew the eerie smile they got creeped up on his face, just by the tone of his voice.
"Why, it should be on the computer screen of your beloved Penelope Garcia any moment. But I'm sorry to say, Meg,"
A door creaked open in the corner, one that I hadn't noticed.
"That that phone of yours, has to be off. Another minute and it could give an exact location, and that won't be any fun."
I heard my phone buzz to death, and my breathing got quicker.
"And you, Meg, need to go back to sleep."
All I heard was a hard clank, and then it was dark.
I slipped into dreams, that were not dreams, but memories. Ones I never wished to relive.
I returned from practice late one night, when I was around the age of six. As I turned to my parents' dormitory, just a few floors below the stage, as the House had eight floors below it and four above, and heard giggling. I knew Mother was out tonight, and I didn't recognize the woman's voice coming from my room, but I knew the laughter was my father's. Slowly creaking open my parent's bedroom door, I saw my father, and a women with black hair, and a matching corset with red accents, pressed against the wall, his hands on her sides, undoing her tights. She stopped giggling, as gasped as she saw me. My father stopped, a string from her corset in his mouth. I stared, wide-eyed. He pressed a finger to his pink, smirking lips, and shushed me. I turned, and ran.
And then, just months later, my mother crying on her bed, alone.
"Mama?" I asked, creeping in. My mother's weeping was incessant, and heart-wrenching.
"Mama?" I reiterated, climbing and curling into her side. I pulled back her long dark braid from her face.
"Mama...Mama, where's Papa?" my voice was small and scared, and I knew I sounded pathetic.
"Mama, what's wrong? Where's Papa?"
"Your father is dead!"
Those words shattered my world.
"...What?" but she didn't repeat it.
"He is never coming back! Get out, Megara! Get out!"
As I ran away, the vision changed, and I saw my mother coming up the stairs into our dormitory. I would move into the Corps de Ballet's dormitory just a year or so later, after my training was complete. Now, I was seven years old, and my mother came up the stairs, her bonnet and coat on, and her arm around a girl with dark curly hair. The girl had tear-stained cheeks and a long, pale, pretty face, but it was clouded with grief.
"Meg, this is Christine Daae. Be nice to her. She has just lost her father."
I walked up to the girl, who at the time was eight years old. I took her hand.
"C'mon," I said, to the girl who would become my best friend. This girl who would betray me. "You can share my bed, tonight."
We curled in together, and I wrapped my arms around her. She cried for a good portion of the night, and didn't sleep, and I consoled her. I started singing, and she joined me, finally realizing she knew the song. Her tears stopped for the night, and she fell asleep to the lull of our voices in unison, as they would be for the next several years....
Years flashed by in my head. Me, walking alone at night, twelve-years-old, and a lasso slipping around my neck. I screamed, and I was turned around, and all I saw was darkness. My attacker's breathing softened when he saw my face.
"Giry..." he mumbled. I realized who he was.
Erik Mulheim, who my mother had found when I was six, just after my father died. He was dirty and disgusting, and my mother had helped him run away from the freak-show that his own father had imprisoned him in. I remembered cowering from him, and letting him have my bed as I had to sleep with my mother that night. He ran to the sewers of the opera, and though he murdered, my mother still felt he was a son to her. She cared for him, and helped him whenever he needed her too.
He took the noose from off my neck, and turned dramatically, disappearing into the darkness he belonged in.
"Meg," my mother said to me, and gesturing to a boy with hair of gold that fell to his shoulders, in a pale beautiful face, with broad shoulders. He looked around sixteen. I was twelve.
"This is the Vicomte DeChagny. His parents have agreed in an arranged marriage, provided you keep at your ballet skills, and choral skills. They have high-hopes of his marrying a Prima Donna."
"I will Patron the Opera Populair in a few years," the boy spoke,"or so I hope. I look forward to seeing you, Meg Giry," he said, bowing, and leaving. I never said a word.
"It's Raoul."
I looked up as the new Patron walked across the stage. I didn't even think of him. But why did Christine know him? Her eyes followed him with ease, staring after him intently, as if he was God.
"You could say we were childhood sweethearts," she said. I remembered her telling me a story, of when she lived in Sweden with her father, and a boy, who retrieved her scarf from the sea. "He called me Little Lotte."
I looked over at her, my heart breaking. Christine had grown far more beautiful than I. Her hair was beautiful, glossy, brunette ringlets, and her eyes, brown, were full and sparkling. Her cheek bones were high, and perfectly pink, as were her lips in her moon colored face. She was slender, with perfect hips.
I was shorter, with yellow hair at the time. My eyes were shockingly dead blue, and my skin was pure white, almost sickly. My cheeks held no colour, nor did my lips. My breasts were too big in some costumes, and in some, too small. My hips were too small, but it never registered with anyone. I was easily the best ballerina, but Christine had the best voice in the opera, but that was all thanks to Erik.
Erik, who just after Christine came, began intriguing her in her dreams, and most recently, been giving her lessons. I knew it was Erik, because it had to be. Either that, or the Opera Ghost. I shuddered.
Since I couldn't think of anything to say, knowing that if Christine showed any affection for him, my fiance would be gone.
"Christine, he's so handsome." I said. She nodded. He walked by, not noticing either of us. Her face fell.
"He wouldn't recognize me."
I touched her arm,"He didn't see you."
Christine sang that night, and Raoul went into her dressing room for a considerable amount of time. He came out, and ordered his carriage. He was taking her to supper. My heart sunk. I was so happy for Christine, but as always, she was taking everything away from me.
Raoul DeChagny was destined to marry a Prima Donna. I was anything but.
Then, after Raoul and Christine escaped from Erik's lair, it was my mother and I charged with hiding him. I rebelled against her, and led the police into his catacombs. All I found was his mask. That night, I left Paris. My mother came home to an empty dormitory, all because of the children she'd taken in, not content with the daughter she birthed from the man she lost.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------NESSA'S POV
I was sitting in my room thinking over what Jack had said. Beth had to take a test that involved peeing on a stick. She had been throwing up. The symptoms indicated........but that was impossible. I'm sure we would have noticed if Beth was.........urgh can't even say the word. I heard Dad's heavy footsteps and he appeared at my door.
"Garcia says we need to get there now!!"
I stood up and hurried down after him. I walked to the car and he all but threw me in. We arrived at the office and hurried up the elevator. I got out and saw JJ and Garcia sobbing and pressing Kleenex to their eyes. I walked over and saw what they were looking at. It was of Meg locked in a room. She was shackled to a wall and appeared to be asleep. She appeared to be having a nightmare and was convulsing. Her wrists looked raw from struggle and I saw a ruptured blister on one wrist. It was inhumane conditions and she didn't appear to have food or water. She also looked to be fully clothed so that was a relief. It was short lived however as a message popped up on the screen.
"Looks like your favorite Prima Ballerina needs a little help. Are you up to that task?"
The screen shut and I saw Penny's background of all of us in Las Vegas. All you could hear were JJ and Penny's snuffles as they tried to stop crying. Me, I had been dry of tears since day one. I had lost the abilty to cry. I stared at the screen for long after it closed and eventually Penny shut the computer off. I looked up as I heard footsteps rush into the office.
"Hey guys. What did I miss?"
It was Reid. He looked around and saw the deppression on everyone's faces. How were we going to explain what we had just seen to him? He would be just like me. Me and him were the only two on the team who had been truly kidnapped and held for any length of time. Me by Renald and him by Tobias Hankel. Garcia turned away from her computer and sighed.
"I can't watch again. Someone else will have to show him."
Morgen bent down and pulled Garcia into a hug and shuffled her out of the room. Alex pulled JJ out of the room and Rossi followed both out. Dad motioned Reid over to the computer and started it up. He loaded the file we recorded and hit play. The video started with a close up of Meg's face and her captor talking to her. You could see the video was smacking Reid in the gut and the despair was written on his face. He looked ready to kill somebody or to be sick. Either one.
Guessing by the dash he made towards the restrooms I'm guessing the second option. Dad was staring of into space and none of the rest of the team looked like they were going to move. I stood up and walked towards the restrooms. Thank god our floor had push doors for them. I walked over to the mens and tapped my foot against the door.
Hearing no response I pushed on the door with my hip. I heard distinct retching sounds and a sigh as they quit. Walking in I searched for Reid and found him in the stall at the end. He was resting his head on the wall and appeared deep in thought. I walked over silently and sat down next to him. He glanced up and I saw the look of a kicked puppy in his eyes.
"You know we'll get her back don't you?"
"But what if....."
The ending of the message was immplied and I got what he couldn't say. What if we found her dead or worse? I leaned against him and I felt warn tears drip on to my head. His body shuddered with sobs he couldn't vocalize. We sat there for what felt like forever and eventually I heard the door open. Some man from another team went to use the urinal and had his fly almost down before I alled but screamed'
"STOPPP!"
He jumped and all but flew out of the bathroom. Reid looked vaguely disturbed and I stood up. He looked fine to walk on his own but he stilled looked very queazy. I but my head under his fragile arm and helped him out.
Morgan seeing me struggle ran over and grabbed under his other arm. He helped me get him to the couch and we sat him down. Dad called me over and he looked vaguely intrigued. He pointed out france on our giant map of placs we've been.
"Garcia managed to trace her phone to somewhere in the middle of france. Ruling out little villages we can deduce she is in Paris , Le Mans, Orleans, or Reims. Based on the fact her kidnapper took her back to France and the fact she seemed to remember whoever it was leads us to believe they know each other from France before she came here. I've got the plane ready and a French official is waiting on us to provide insite and to be a translator. Wheels up in thirty." At this point he went to grab our go bags and I fluped into a chair still looking at the map.
Meg we will come get you back.
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MEG'S POV
My head was heavy, and my body arched off the concrete, as if trying to fly away while I was sleeping.
My nightmares. My life.
I shook them from my head, not allowing them to claim my fear for their own. I looked up at the camera. Green light.
"Hello?" I asked. I sat forward, as far as I could on my knees, straining against the chains.
"Good morning, Meg."
I flinched at the voice, and it seemed vaguely familiar. It was whole and rich. Tenor. Strangely...beautiful.
"How did you sleep?" he asked.
I stared intently into the camera.
"Mama?" I choked out. "Mama! Mère! Sauvez-moi! Dépêchez-vous!" I cried.
"Did I not instruct for you to be silent?!"
I stared. His voice had taken on a deep sound, rumbling through the room. I was reminded of an interrupted Opera, where Christine and I both had silent roles. She was 15 and I was 14.
His voice had shattered the atmosphere:"Did I not instruct that Box Five was to be kept empty for me?"
"Here's here," I said, leaning over to her, holding up my rainbow-striped maid's skirt. I uttered his name. She stared afraid.
"It's him..."
"...It's you," I said, my voice deep and sick in the back of my throat. I slide back slowly, against the wall. "It's been you this whole time..."
"Megara-"
"No! It's you!" the door creaked open. "Having her wasn't enough? Or am I just second best."
"Meg," he said, and his black eyes bore down into mine, a black mask covering his face. "You need to be quiet," he leaned forward, hands on my neck,"before you say something to ruin the show."
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------NESSA'S POV
We were in the air for what felt like days. How Meg survived a boatride over here I know not. I had already listened to all the books I had bought. I played all the voice controlled video games I had.
The only thing I hadn't done was poke Morgan with a stick. I picked up dad's pencil with my teeth and turned around and jabbed it into Morgan's side.
There now I had officialy done everything there was to do on a transatlantic flight. I decided to watch the video again. I booted up the the video and started it. I saw something new this time. It was of Meg awake. She was talking with someone but the voice was altered.
We were right. She did know who it was. I heard the captain say we were beginning our dissent. I emailed the others the link and shut it down. We landed and the air was freezing. It was drizzling and looked like it would be that way for awhile.
We unboarded and I saw a petite tan woman standing out there. She had dark red hair and green eyes. She was dressed in a well fitted pant suit with towering heels. She had that domineering sneer and high cheekbones that spoke of amazing breeding. She looked down at us and you could see the gears spinning in her head. She glanced over at Morgen and she switched to a seductress grin. She stalked over, shaking her hips and chest. She wrapped her hand around his bicep and gave it a squeeze.
She stroked his chest and ran her nails over his abbs. "Mr. Muscles arn't ve?"
She even had that french accent. You know the one. Dad cleared his throat and stroad over.
"Hi we're the team from America. I called the Embassey and they aranged for a translator to meet us."
"Tzat vould be moi."
Morgan looked distictly uncomfortable so I decided to rescue him. I sauntered over and planted a closed lip kiss on the corner of his lips. His eyes bugged out and she stormed off. I wiped my lips on my shirt and he wiped his on his sleeves. I spit real fast. We chased after her and caught up. We loaded into Mercedes Benz and drove towards what we assumed what the Embassey. I saw many historic landmarks as we drove. The Arc De Triomphe, The Noterdame Cathedral, Sainte Chapelle, and the most cliche of all The Eiffel Tower. We pulled up at a very ornately landscaped building and we stepped out. We walked in and I was astounded by the glamour of the inside. It was designed in Louis VII style. All old fashioned and rich colours. We were showed to a office room and our rooms that were housed in the Emmabasy itself. I sat down on the chair in the room and leaned back.
Meg was top priority but I couldn't do anything with out sleep.
**********************************************************************************
MEG'S POV
I sat up, and I realized, I was no longer chained to a wall. I turned around to see only one wrist-hand-cuffed-to a rod-iron bed. It had a disgusting old mattress, that was thin and falling apart, a pillow, and a small black blanket, that, after spending Lord-Knows how many nights on the floor, looked freaking soft.
I looked forward again at the camera. The green light flicked on before my eyes.
"Megara, what do you remember the night you left?" the voice was tenor again, and I knew who he was.
"I...I remember there was mist...swirling mist upon a vast, glassy lake...There were candles all around and on the lake there was a boat...and in the boat there was a man..." The last few words I mumbled were retardo, slow and steady. I looked over, and I noticed the bed wasn't the only additive. An organ. I was in another room. I slipped the handcuff off from the bed leg, and rose.
"Who was that shape in the shadows?" I asked, walking toward the organ, and the man seated at it. I touched his face gingerly. "Whose is the face in the mask?" In that moment, I ripped off his mask. His face was still every bit as horrid as I remember it. So distorted, deformed, it was hardly a face.
I knew the slap was coming, and I still fell hard to the ground.
"Damn you!" he hissed. "You little prying Pandora! You little demon! This is what you wanted to see?" He stared into a mirror, but then, repulsed, covered his face again. "Curse you! You little lying Deliah! You little viper! Now you cannot ever be free! Damn you...curse you..." He hissed.
I knew what I had done was wrong. But I needed to know why I was here.
He laughed darkly.
"Stranger than you dreamt it, can you even dare to look or think of me...this loathsome gargoyle who burns in hell, but secretly, yearns for heaven secretly...secretly...Meg..."
I was shocked to feel tears falling down my face. I held out the mask, and he took it. Placing it on his face, he rose.
"Come, we must prepare. Those fools observing our show will be missing you."
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------NESSA'S POV
I sat down in the conferance room. We had gotten this room to ourselves and I heard someone behind me.
"Damn girl! You are going to have issues if you go around doing that!"
"Derek Morgen; If I hadn't done that you would still be getting raped by that freak in the heels!
"Still damn girl' You have more balls then some guys I know!"
"Have you told Penny yet?"
"Do I look like I want to be castrated? Or responsible for murder?"
I shook my head and continued watching the computer. I saw a new link pop up and I started it.
It showed Meg on a bed now and I hoped nothing had happened. Meg was still fully dressed and didn't appear like anything had happened. Thank god for small miracles.
I watched her walk of screen following the voice and she began to sing. I had only heard one that could hope to match her and it had been my mom. My mom had been professionally trained and it was obvious Meg had been too. I heard the man begin to sing and the sound of a slap resonated through the room. I saw a blur pull Meg into the room and tucked her in. He vanished and I sat staring at the prone body of Meg.
I heard Derek gasp behind me and I turned to him. He had that lethal look upon his face.
"Can I please kill that son of a bitch?"
I shook my head and nodded towards the board.
"Find him and then you can."
I heard the rest of the team stagger in and there was something off.
"What were you guys doing?"
"We tried the escargo from the diner."
Rossi walked in after them and motioned me over.
"The idiots tried it and then they tried Brandade de morue. Needless to say they didn't take it so well"
They did appear rather queazy and I noticed JJ's cheeks looked rather pouched out. I saw her make a dash for the restroom and the others followed suit.
I sat back down and tried to follow the signaling from the message but nothing came up. The connection was bounced around. It was off of to many routers to trace. I slumped and tried to find a way to trace the original computer. It was somewhere in Paris or Orleans of that I was certain. I could try and trace it further but the broadcaster would be alerted if I went any further. I needed a way to get around the connection scrambler. Maybe Penny could come up with a idea. But for now I need to keep working.
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MEG'S POV
I stretched, waking, and my wrists were not raw, to my delight. The walls of this room-that I had been placed in yesterday-were a dark grey brick. The floor was black wood. I noticed a mirror in the corner, and what appeared to be a wardrobe. Two doors on one wall, as far apart as they could be. One other door on the opposing wall, next to which, was an organ. The camera was mounted high now, so that no matter where I was, you could see me. I frowned. On a nightstand beside the bed I had woken in, was food. I hadn't eaten that whole last case I had worked. I hadn't eaten here. I shoved the oatmeal down my throat, and drowned the orange juice.
"Don't eat to fast," my captor said, but he wasn't in the room. "It'll just come back up again, and we can't do what I plan for the day."
"And what is that?" I asked.
I got no reply. After that, I ate an orange, scrambled eggs, and two strips of bacon, which I had always hated until my stomach was literally emaciated.
"There's a bath waiting for you, the far left door on the right wall," he said. I nodded.
"You won't watch me, will you?" I asked.
"Those are not my plans for you. Take in an extra pair of clothes so you can change. I do think Dr. Reid would get flustered to see you prance about in a towel."
My face went red, not from embarrassment, but anger.
"Do not ever speak his name! Vous me dégoûtez! Vous n'êtes pas apte à essuyer ses bottes!" I stormed off, and I heard a chuckled behind me, as I rifled through the wardrobe, picking a gold ballerina's dress, with matching tights and shoes.
The laughter continued as I stalked to the bathroom. "And you were going to hate him for the rest of your life!"
After bathing, I came out, fully dressed, and my hair perfect. I tied it with a golden ribbon, and tied an identical one over my petticoat.
"Lovely, as always, Miss Giry."
"Did you think that as you tried to kill me seven years ago?"
A pause.
"I didn't know it was you."
"I know that," I said. "It was only because of my mother you didn't kill me." I stopped.
"How...how is my mother?" I whispered. Lunch was by my bed side, and although I wasn't hungry, I saw the food and sat down, and started nibbling on some toast.
"She scowered Paris for you, of course. Thought you were totally gone. Kidnapped."
I looked down. "Is she-"
"She's alive. Hasn't been the same when you left, but of course, your name appeared in the papers."
I stared up.
"It was just before you were sixteen. Mme. Giry was searching any trails of you. Meg, adoptions are listed in the newspapers, just like divorces, births, and marriages..."
I put my head into my hands.
"You got adopted? Really, Meg. That was below the belt."
"Shut up," I hissed.
"You can be with her again, you know."
My head shot up.
"What do you mean?"
He didn't reply.
"Does it have something to do with why you brought me here?"
A few minutes of silence passed, and I didn't move, just stared.
"Megara, haven't you wanted to be a star?"
I stared. "Of course that's what I wanted," I spat. "But all you and my fiance ever wanted was Christine."
"Oh, come now. How can you say that name with such disdain?"
I didn't respond.
"Megara, I can make you...a star. My star. You saw what I did for Christine-"
"Where is she, by the way? You kill her?"
He was silent before replying,"Raoul impregnated her, and they had to be married at once. She is now a very famous singer in most parts of Europe."
I nodded. "Of course."
"Megara, I can do for you what I did for her."
I shook my head. "I was a pawn before and I'll just be a pawn again. No."
"Why would I go to this length for a pawn?"
Damn, he was making sense.
"Meg, if you look, you'll find sheet music under your bed."
I looked, and I did. Scanning over it, I was perplexed.
"This is vaudeville," I said.
"Yes."
"...It's a strip tease."
He sighed. "Megara, we all start somewhere."
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------NESSA'S POV
I sat there watching the rest of the team stumble out of the bathroom. They looked ghostly pale and ready to pass out.
"You guys go to bed for the night. Me, Morgen, and Rossi will work on the case."
They groaned and shuffled of to their rooms. God who would just eat a ton of foreign food if they hadn't tested their stomachs strenght.
"Rossi check the link and see if there is anything new. Morgen start a preliminary search of people Meg pissed off in France. I'll start compiling reasons why someone would kidnap that Queen of the Albino Bitches."
They got to their searches and I started on mine. I couldn't think of one reason that out of the blue someone would kidnap our bitch.
"Ness we have a new video!"
The video was of him and Meg talking. At the end she pulled out the sheet music. Vaudeville. A strip tease. God if he did anything to her. I don't know what I'd do to that gay, mask wearing son of a bitch. Only a male prostitute would wear a half mask. I bet he got sweet touches down south from a fifteen year old paperboy. I bet his fantasies involved dropping the soap in prison. I bet he got off on those tights football players wore. I bet he hoped for police brutality. God I was getting worked up now.
I sat down and we had new clues. He knew this Christine and he worked with her in musical theater. He also knew Meg from the opera. I guess it was time to interview Madame Giry.
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MEG'S POV
"No," I said.
"It's only to get your feet off the ground. I don't have the Opera Populair under my control anymore, Megara. I do, however, own a theme park on Coney Island. My only missing attraction-"
"Is a hooker?"
"Is you, Megara. Every Scarlett has to pay her debts."
"No...not like this, not this way!" I screamed, throwing the music. "Can we run over it a little bit. The back one, yes, see, that ones not a strip tease."
My eyes eased out of their scowl. "...True."
"Sing for me, Megara."
How many time had I dream of hearing those words? I did a little scale, then let my voice vibrato as I began.
"Weeeelllll-ccoooooommmmeeeee,
Each and everyone to our firmament of fun,
a buffet of ballyhoo!
It's where Coney comes to play,
and it's opening today
and it's only for you!
Entertainment day and night,
sure to dazzle and delight!
And of course we'll be there too
Yoo-hoo!
We're so happy that you're here
for the season's big premiere
and it's only for you!!"
My voice rang back to me, clear, but it was as tacky as I meant for it to sound. Perfect for vaudeville, and all my choral training was just thrown out the window.
"That was disgusting," I said. "You used to compose so beautifully."
"When the right voice sang it."
"Then give me something like that!" I groaned.
"You're not ready."
I stepped back. "I was right. I am just a pawn, but one that's going to play a major role, am I wrong? Then I guess I'm more of knight. You're going to have to use a few more moves to get me," I said, my French accent coming through.
"Do not fret, Megara, I have some moves to spare."
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------NESSA'S POV
I walked up to the rooms and as much as I hated to wake them up I kicked each door. I heard groans from each door and they all stumbled out. They looked like zombies. I heard a distinct female voice behind me. Emily! I realized we had forgotten about Emily in this whole mess. I flashed back to the day we called Emily.
"Dad we need to call Emily."
"Urggghhh Laterrrrrrr."
He sounded like a teenage girl or me. He picked up his phone and dialed Emily.
"Hello?"
"Hey Emily.
"What do you need Hotchner?"
"Ummmm well you see Meg, I mean surely, You dont need to come, but of course...."
I had him clip the bluetooth to my ear.
"Its Nessa. Meg was kinda taken."
"WHHHHHHAAAAAAATTTTTTTTT!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?! WHAT DO YOU MEAN MY DAUGHTER WAS TAKEN?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!"
"She was kinda kidnapped and taken to Paris or Orleans."
"AND YOU JUST NOW INFORM ME?????????????
"We just found out ourselves!"
"I CAN'T TALK TO YOU GUYS RIGHT NOW!!!! I'LL MEET YOU IN PARIS!!!!!!"
I guess she finally got here.
"Nessa dear, How big you have gotten! You must be pickin boys right and left."
"Meg would be so happy to see you Emi."
I purposefully changed the subject from boys.
"I'm sad I had to come under such circumstances."
We got on the road to visit Megs blood mother. She lived out in the countryside at a old chateau. We got there and I saw an old and pucker mouthed version of Meg waiting in the front lawn.
" 'ello I am Madame Giry."
She had the same voice as Meg but with the thickest french accent I ever heard.
"We are the team that is looking for your daughter. I need to know of relations your daughter had."
"Come inside s'il vous plaît. I 'ave tea ready."
"Of course Madame Giry."
We followed her into her modest home. I saw many photos of Meg at several different ages. She was the same looking in every photo except she got bigger.
"Madame we need the names of all the men Meg associated with while at the opera. Also they trained a young lady by the name of Christine. Does that ring any bells?"
"W'at you are asking is very 'ard. But a couple of names come to mind. There is Raoul, and Erik. Bot' 'ad ties wit' the two of t'em. But Raoul is married with C'ristine now. You can be sure if Erik is involved you will be 'ard pressed to save my daug'ter.
"Ma'am, Do you think Erik could be involved?"
"I t'ink it very likely."
"Thank you ma'am."
We stood up and proceeded out the door. We had got what we came for and now we could put the pieces together.
**************************************************************************
MEG'S POV
"Again."
Erik watched me from his piano. The door on the left side of my room, was a ballet studio, with white marble floors, the cleanest mirrors I've ever seen, and black hand rails, made of the absolute softest mineral ever. I frowned.
"My feet are bleeding," I said.
"Your feet constantly bled while you were at the Corps. You kept rags in your shoes. Your feet, Meg, worked the hardest. Christine didn't even compare to your dancing, Meg. There, she was second best."
I stared forward at him. He admitting that Christine was second to me was the sweetest sound ever. My whole life, all I'd ever been was second to Christine Daae, in anyone's eyes.
"...Again," he said.
I obeyed, twirling on the porcelain floor. My feet soared higher than they ever had, and my face, which should never smile during my art, beamed. My movements are fluid, and I gave everything to my dance. My passion, my soul, everything, just like I used to.
"Your art is everything, Meg," my mother once said to me. "If you cannot sacrifice everything for it, the sacrifices you've already have gone to nothing."
"Mama," I said, smiling. She lifted me up, and my fingers grasped for her long braid.
Erik watched silently, and without moving.
"Again, Megara. Until it is perfect."
I wasn't discouraged at the lack of praise, for I knew I had done better. I moved into the first turn, letting my body sweep around the floor. Only for Him...
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Ness come on. You need to leave your room. Couping up in here won't find Meg."
"GET OUT DAD!! YOU GUYS DON'T CARE ABOUT MEG OR YOU WOULD HAVE FOUND HER BY NOW!!!!"
"You know that isn't true! I love Meg like a daughter and not finding her is killing the rest of us too!"
"UGGGGHHHHH GET THE 'EFF OUT!!!!"
He stormed down the stairs and I broke down into sobs. When would I learn to control this mouth of mine? Meg had been gone for 4 days now and no traces of her were found.
We had woken up the next morning after they shot the mayor and JJ told us Meg never came back from the bar. We called her phone and lo and behold it says this number is in longer in use. We go around the city and we cant find hide nor tail of our bucksome blond. I start to worry and dad trys to convince me she probably went back to Quantico already.
I hope so and we travel back. We get there and Penny tells us the last place Megs phone worked was somewhere in Wizamania. I really begin to freak out so dad takes me home. Flash forward to now and were up to date.
I finally stand up and regret it badilly. My stomach already felt like lead. Now it fills like lead filled with helium. I make a dash to the restroom and am violently sick. I rest my head on the basin. I see something move out the corner of my eye. I turn and see Jack standing behind me holding a glass of water.
"Why thank you Jack."
"Bethy told me to bring her that all last week while you were away. She said she had to run a test to be sure though. It involved peeing on a stick according to her." He started laughing and I gulped my water. Did he just imply what I think he did?]
Anyways I should be focused on Meg. She had vanished off the place of the earth. Just like Gideon had. It hurt I admit to think she could have just left us like that. I thought she cared for me more than that. I know I cared for her that much. I couldn't think of one person who would abduct her though. The rest of the team found it more likely she left on her own free will. But I know it isn't true and I will prove it to them.
*******************************************************************************
MEG'S POV
I woke slowly, and drowsy, and for a minute, I didn't even question where I was.
Until I tried to move.
I sat forward, but my arms were glued behind me, as if chained....
I turned and stared. Black, thick chains jutted from my wrists, to a bolt low on the wall. I groaned. I looked down, and thanked God my dress was still on. I wiggled slightly, and lay back down to give the chains slack. Thanks to this, my phone fell out from it's place in my brasserie. It was off. I pulled my leg as high as it would go, flashing any one who was watching from the South side of the stone room, and pressed the PWR button. It began to glow to life. Where ever I was, I hoped someone knew I was missing. My GPS would be turning on. They could find me
I quickly surveyed the room, looking for traces to explain where I was or how I got here. Nothing. Just a dusty room with no windows. It was damp and cold, so I assumed I was underground. No bed. No food. Just a dusty floor. My phone clicked on.
"Hello, Meg," I heard a voice say loudly. I stared.
"H-Hello..." I said, sleepily. Then, looking forward, I saw it.
A slick, black camera, with it's green light on.
"Meg," he said again. A man.
"Where is the camera broadcasting to?" I asked. "Besides you."
I knew the eerie smile they got creeped up on his face, just by the tone of his voice.
"Why, it should be on the computer screen of your beloved Penelope Garcia any moment. But I'm sorry to say, Meg,"
A door creaked open in the corner, one that I hadn't noticed.
"That that phone of yours, has to be off. Another minute and it could give an exact location, and that won't be any fun."
I heard my phone buzz to death, and my breathing got quicker.
"And you, Meg, need to go back to sleep."
All I heard was a hard clank, and then it was dark.
I slipped into dreams, that were not dreams, but memories. Ones I never wished to relive.
I returned from practice late one night, when I was around the age of six. As I turned to my parents' dormitory, just a few floors below the stage, as the House had eight floors below it and four above, and heard giggling. I knew Mother was out tonight, and I didn't recognize the woman's voice coming from my room, but I knew the laughter was my father's. Slowly creaking open my parent's bedroom door, I saw my father, and a women with black hair, and a matching corset with red accents, pressed against the wall, his hands on her sides, undoing her tights. She stopped giggling, as gasped as she saw me. My father stopped, a string from her corset in his mouth. I stared, wide-eyed. He pressed a finger to his pink, smirking lips, and shushed me. I turned, and ran.
And then, just months later, my mother crying on her bed, alone.
"Mama?" I asked, creeping in. My mother's weeping was incessant, and heart-wrenching.
"Mama?" I reiterated, climbing and curling into her side. I pulled back her long dark braid from her face.
"Mama...Mama, where's Papa?" my voice was small and scared, and I knew I sounded pathetic.
"Mama, what's wrong? Where's Papa?"
"Your father is dead!"
Those words shattered my world.
"...What?" but she didn't repeat it.
"He is never coming back! Get out, Megara! Get out!"
As I ran away, the vision changed, and I saw my mother coming up the stairs into our dormitory. I would move into the Corps de Ballet's dormitory just a year or so later, after my training was complete. Now, I was seven years old, and my mother came up the stairs, her bonnet and coat on, and her arm around a girl with dark curly hair. The girl had tear-stained cheeks and a long, pale, pretty face, but it was clouded with grief.
"Meg, this is Christine Daae. Be nice to her. She has just lost her father."
I walked up to the girl, who at the time was eight years old. I took her hand.
"C'mon," I said, to the girl who would become my best friend. This girl who would betray me. "You can share my bed, tonight."
We curled in together, and I wrapped my arms around her. She cried for a good portion of the night, and didn't sleep, and I consoled her. I started singing, and she joined me, finally realizing she knew the song. Her tears stopped for the night, and she fell asleep to the lull of our voices in unison, as they would be for the next several years....
Years flashed by in my head. Me, walking alone at night, twelve-years-old, and a lasso slipping around my neck. I screamed, and I was turned around, and all I saw was darkness. My attacker's breathing softened when he saw my face.
"Giry..." he mumbled. I realized who he was.
Erik Mulheim, who my mother had found when I was six, just after my father died. He was dirty and disgusting, and my mother had helped him run away from the freak-show that his own father had imprisoned him in. I remembered cowering from him, and letting him have my bed as I had to sleep with my mother that night. He ran to the sewers of the opera, and though he murdered, my mother still felt he was a son to her. She cared for him, and helped him whenever he needed her too.
He took the noose from off my neck, and turned dramatically, disappearing into the darkness he belonged in.
"Meg," my mother said to me, and gesturing to a boy with hair of gold that fell to his shoulders, in a pale beautiful face, with broad shoulders. He looked around sixteen. I was twelve.
"This is the Vicomte DeChagny. His parents have agreed in an arranged marriage, provided you keep at your ballet skills, and choral skills. They have high-hopes of his marrying a Prima Donna."
"I will Patron the Opera Populair in a few years," the boy spoke,"or so I hope. I look forward to seeing you, Meg Giry," he said, bowing, and leaving. I never said a word.
"It's Raoul."
I looked up as the new Patron walked across the stage. I didn't even think of him. But why did Christine know him? Her eyes followed him with ease, staring after him intently, as if he was God.
"You could say we were childhood sweethearts," she said. I remembered her telling me a story, of when she lived in Sweden with her father, and a boy, who retrieved her scarf from the sea. "He called me Little Lotte."
I looked over at her, my heart breaking. Christine had grown far more beautiful than I. Her hair was beautiful, glossy, brunette ringlets, and her eyes, brown, were full and sparkling. Her cheek bones were high, and perfectly pink, as were her lips in her moon colored face. She was slender, with perfect hips.
I was shorter, with yellow hair at the time. My eyes were shockingly dead blue, and my skin was pure white, almost sickly. My cheeks held no colour, nor did my lips. My breasts were too big in some costumes, and in some, too small. My hips were too small, but it never registered with anyone. I was easily the best ballerina, but Christine had the best voice in the opera, but that was all thanks to Erik.
Erik, who just after Christine came, began intriguing her in her dreams, and most recently, been giving her lessons. I knew it was Erik, because it had to be. Either that, or the Opera Ghost. I shuddered.
Since I couldn't think of anything to say, knowing that if Christine showed any affection for him, my fiance would be gone.
"Christine, he's so handsome." I said. She nodded. He walked by, not noticing either of us. Her face fell.
"He wouldn't recognize me."
I touched her arm,"He didn't see you."
Christine sang that night, and Raoul went into her dressing room for a considerable amount of time. He came out, and ordered his carriage. He was taking her to supper. My heart sunk. I was so happy for Christine, but as always, she was taking everything away from me.
Raoul DeChagny was destined to marry a Prima Donna. I was anything but.
Then, after Raoul and Christine escaped from Erik's lair, it was my mother and I charged with hiding him. I rebelled against her, and led the police into his catacombs. All I found was his mask. That night, I left Paris. My mother came home to an empty dormitory, all because of the children she'd taken in, not content with the daughter she birthed from the man she lost.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------NESSA'S POV
I was sitting in my room thinking over what Jack had said. Beth had to take a test that involved peeing on a stick. She had been throwing up. The symptoms indicated........but that was impossible. I'm sure we would have noticed if Beth was.........urgh can't even say the word. I heard Dad's heavy footsteps and he appeared at my door.
"Garcia says we need to get there now!!"
I stood up and hurried down after him. I walked to the car and he all but threw me in. We arrived at the office and hurried up the elevator. I got out and saw JJ and Garcia sobbing and pressing Kleenex to their eyes. I walked over and saw what they were looking at. It was of Meg locked in a room. She was shackled to a wall and appeared to be asleep. She appeared to be having a nightmare and was convulsing. Her wrists looked raw from struggle and I saw a ruptured blister on one wrist. It was inhumane conditions and she didn't appear to have food or water. She also looked to be fully clothed so that was a relief. It was short lived however as a message popped up on the screen.
"Looks like your favorite Prima Ballerina needs a little help. Are you up to that task?"
The screen shut and I saw Penny's background of all of us in Las Vegas. All you could hear were JJ and Penny's snuffles as they tried to stop crying. Me, I had been dry of tears since day one. I had lost the abilty to cry. I stared at the screen for long after it closed and eventually Penny shut the computer off. I looked up as I heard footsteps rush into the office.
"Hey guys. What did I miss?"
It was Reid. He looked around and saw the deppression on everyone's faces. How were we going to explain what we had just seen to him? He would be just like me. Me and him were the only two on the team who had been truly kidnapped and held for any length of time. Me by Renald and him by Tobias Hankel. Garcia turned away from her computer and sighed.
"I can't watch again. Someone else will have to show him."
Morgen bent down and pulled Garcia into a hug and shuffled her out of the room. Alex pulled JJ out of the room and Rossi followed both out. Dad motioned Reid over to the computer and started it up. He loaded the file we recorded and hit play. The video started with a close up of Meg's face and her captor talking to her. You could see the video was smacking Reid in the gut and the despair was written on his face. He looked ready to kill somebody or to be sick. Either one.
Guessing by the dash he made towards the restrooms I'm guessing the second option. Dad was staring of into space and none of the rest of the team looked like they were going to move. I stood up and walked towards the restrooms. Thank god our floor had push doors for them. I walked over to the mens and tapped my foot against the door.
Hearing no response I pushed on the door with my hip. I heard distinct retching sounds and a sigh as they quit. Walking in I searched for Reid and found him in the stall at the end. He was resting his head on the wall and appeared deep in thought. I walked over silently and sat down next to him. He glanced up and I saw the look of a kicked puppy in his eyes.
"You know we'll get her back don't you?"
"But what if....."
The ending of the message was immplied and I got what he couldn't say. What if we found her dead or worse? I leaned against him and I felt warn tears drip on to my head. His body shuddered with sobs he couldn't vocalize. We sat there for what felt like forever and eventually I heard the door open. Some man from another team went to use the urinal and had his fly almost down before I alled but screamed'
"STOPPP!"
He jumped and all but flew out of the bathroom. Reid looked vaguely disturbed and I stood up. He looked fine to walk on his own but he stilled looked very queazy. I but my head under his fragile arm and helped him out.
Morgan seeing me struggle ran over and grabbed under his other arm. He helped me get him to the couch and we sat him down. Dad called me over and he looked vaguely intrigued. He pointed out france on our giant map of placs we've been.
"Garcia managed to trace her phone to somewhere in the middle of france. Ruling out little villages we can deduce she is in Paris , Le Mans, Orleans, or Reims. Based on the fact her kidnapper took her back to France and the fact she seemed to remember whoever it was leads us to believe they know each other from France before she came here. I've got the plane ready and a French official is waiting on us to provide insite and to be a translator. Wheels up in thirty." At this point he went to grab our go bags and I fluped into a chair still looking at the map.
Meg we will come get you back.
**********************************************************************************
MEG'S POV
My head was heavy, and my body arched off the concrete, as if trying to fly away while I was sleeping.
My nightmares. My life.
I shook them from my head, not allowing them to claim my fear for their own. I looked up at the camera. Green light.
"Hello?" I asked. I sat forward, as far as I could on my knees, straining against the chains.
"Good morning, Meg."
I flinched at the voice, and it seemed vaguely familiar. It was whole and rich. Tenor. Strangely...beautiful.
"How did you sleep?" he asked.
I stared intently into the camera.
"Mama?" I choked out. "Mama! Mère! Sauvez-moi! Dépêchez-vous!" I cried.
"Did I not instruct for you to be silent?!"
I stared. His voice had taken on a deep sound, rumbling through the room. I was reminded of an interrupted Opera, where Christine and I both had silent roles. She was 15 and I was 14.
His voice had shattered the atmosphere:"Did I not instruct that Box Five was to be kept empty for me?"
"Here's here," I said, leaning over to her, holding up my rainbow-striped maid's skirt. I uttered his name. She stared afraid.
"It's him..."
"...It's you," I said, my voice deep and sick in the back of my throat. I slide back slowly, against the wall. "It's been you this whole time..."
"Megara-"
"No! It's you!" the door creaked open. "Having her wasn't enough? Or am I just second best."
"Meg," he said, and his black eyes bore down into mine, a black mask covering his face. "You need to be quiet," he leaned forward, hands on my neck,"before you say something to ruin the show."
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------NESSA'S POV
We were in the air for what felt like days. How Meg survived a boatride over here I know not. I had already listened to all the books I had bought. I played all the voice controlled video games I had.
The only thing I hadn't done was poke Morgan with a stick. I picked up dad's pencil with my teeth and turned around and jabbed it into Morgan's side.
There now I had officialy done everything there was to do on a transatlantic flight. I decided to watch the video again. I booted up the the video and started it. I saw something new this time. It was of Meg awake. She was talking with someone but the voice was altered.
We were right. She did know who it was. I heard the captain say we were beginning our dissent. I emailed the others the link and shut it down. We landed and the air was freezing. It was drizzling and looked like it would be that way for awhile.
We unboarded and I saw a petite tan woman standing out there. She had dark red hair and green eyes. She was dressed in a well fitted pant suit with towering heels. She had that domineering sneer and high cheekbones that spoke of amazing breeding. She looked down at us and you could see the gears spinning in her head. She glanced over at Morgen and she switched to a seductress grin. She stalked over, shaking her hips and chest. She wrapped her hand around his bicep and gave it a squeeze.
She stroked his chest and ran her nails over his abbs. "Mr. Muscles arn't ve?"
She even had that french accent. You know the one. Dad cleared his throat and stroad over.
"Hi we're the team from America. I called the Embassey and they aranged for a translator to meet us."
"Tzat vould be moi."
Morgan looked distictly uncomfortable so I decided to rescue him. I sauntered over and planted a closed lip kiss on the corner of his lips. His eyes bugged out and she stormed off. I wiped my lips on my shirt and he wiped his on his sleeves. I spit real fast. We chased after her and caught up. We loaded into Mercedes Benz and drove towards what we assumed what the Embassey. I saw many historic landmarks as we drove. The Arc De Triomphe, The Noterdame Cathedral, Sainte Chapelle, and the most cliche of all The Eiffel Tower. We pulled up at a very ornately landscaped building and we stepped out. We walked in and I was astounded by the glamour of the inside. It was designed in Louis VII style. All old fashioned and rich colours. We were showed to a office room and our rooms that were housed in the Emmabasy itself. I sat down on the chair in the room and leaned back.
Meg was top priority but I couldn't do anything with out sleep.
**********************************************************************************
MEG'S POV
I sat up, and I realized, I was no longer chained to a wall. I turned around to see only one wrist-hand-cuffed-to a rod-iron bed. It had a disgusting old mattress, that was thin and falling apart, a pillow, and a small black blanket, that, after spending Lord-Knows how many nights on the floor, looked freaking soft.
I looked forward again at the camera. The green light flicked on before my eyes.
"Megara, what do you remember the night you left?" the voice was tenor again, and I knew who he was.
"I...I remember there was mist...swirling mist upon a vast, glassy lake...There were candles all around and on the lake there was a boat...and in the boat there was a man..." The last few words I mumbled were retardo, slow and steady. I looked over, and I noticed the bed wasn't the only additive. An organ. I was in another room. I slipped the handcuff off from the bed leg, and rose.
"Who was that shape in the shadows?" I asked, walking toward the organ, and the man seated at it. I touched his face gingerly. "Whose is the face in the mask?" In that moment, I ripped off his mask. His face was still every bit as horrid as I remember it. So distorted, deformed, it was hardly a face.
I knew the slap was coming, and I still fell hard to the ground.
"Damn you!" he hissed. "You little prying Pandora! You little demon! This is what you wanted to see?" He stared into a mirror, but then, repulsed, covered his face again. "Curse you! You little lying Deliah! You little viper! Now you cannot ever be free! Damn you...curse you..." He hissed.
I knew what I had done was wrong. But I needed to know why I was here.
He laughed darkly.
"Stranger than you dreamt it, can you even dare to look or think of me...this loathsome gargoyle who burns in hell, but secretly, yearns for heaven secretly...secretly...Meg..."
I was shocked to feel tears falling down my face. I held out the mask, and he took it. Placing it on his face, he rose.
"Come, we must prepare. Those fools observing our show will be missing you."
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------NESSA'S POV
I sat down in the conferance room. We had gotten this room to ourselves and I heard someone behind me.
"Damn girl! You are going to have issues if you go around doing that!"
"Derek Morgen; If I hadn't done that you would still be getting raped by that freak in the heels!
"Still damn girl' You have more balls then some guys I know!"
"Have you told Penny yet?"
"Do I look like I want to be castrated? Or responsible for murder?"
I shook my head and continued watching the computer. I saw a new link pop up and I started it.
It showed Meg on a bed now and I hoped nothing had happened. Meg was still fully dressed and didn't appear like anything had happened. Thank god for small miracles.
I watched her walk of screen following the voice and she began to sing. I had only heard one that could hope to match her and it had been my mom. My mom had been professionally trained and it was obvious Meg had been too. I heard the man begin to sing and the sound of a slap resonated through the room. I saw a blur pull Meg into the room and tucked her in. He vanished and I sat staring at the prone body of Meg.
I heard Derek gasp behind me and I turned to him. He had that lethal look upon his face.
"Can I please kill that son of a bitch?"
I shook my head and nodded towards the board.
"Find him and then you can."
I heard the rest of the team stagger in and there was something off.
"What were you guys doing?"
"We tried the escargo from the diner."
Rossi walked in after them and motioned me over.
"The idiots tried it and then they tried Brandade de morue. Needless to say they didn't take it so well"
They did appear rather queazy and I noticed JJ's cheeks looked rather pouched out. I saw her make a dash for the restroom and the others followed suit.
I sat back down and tried to follow the signaling from the message but nothing came up. The connection was bounced around. It was off of to many routers to trace. I slumped and tried to find a way to trace the original computer. It was somewhere in Paris or Orleans of that I was certain. I could try and trace it further but the broadcaster would be alerted if I went any further. I needed a way to get around the connection scrambler. Maybe Penny could come up with a idea. But for now I need to keep working.
**********************************************************************************
MEG'S POV
I stretched, waking, and my wrists were not raw, to my delight. The walls of this room-that I had been placed in yesterday-were a dark grey brick. The floor was black wood. I noticed a mirror in the corner, and what appeared to be a wardrobe. Two doors on one wall, as far apart as they could be. One other door on the opposing wall, next to which, was an organ. The camera was mounted high now, so that no matter where I was, you could see me. I frowned. On a nightstand beside the bed I had woken in, was food. I hadn't eaten that whole last case I had worked. I hadn't eaten here. I shoved the oatmeal down my throat, and drowned the orange juice.
"Don't eat to fast," my captor said, but he wasn't in the room. "It'll just come back up again, and we can't do what I plan for the day."
"And what is that?" I asked.
I got no reply. After that, I ate an orange, scrambled eggs, and two strips of bacon, which I had always hated until my stomach was literally emaciated.
"There's a bath waiting for you, the far left door on the right wall," he said. I nodded.
"You won't watch me, will you?" I asked.
"Those are not my plans for you. Take in an extra pair of clothes so you can change. I do think Dr. Reid would get flustered to see you prance about in a towel."
My face went red, not from embarrassment, but anger.
"Do not ever speak his name! Vous me dégoûtez! Vous n'êtes pas apte à essuyer ses bottes!" I stormed off, and I heard a chuckled behind me, as I rifled through the wardrobe, picking a gold ballerina's dress, with matching tights and shoes.
The laughter continued as I stalked to the bathroom. "And you were going to hate him for the rest of your life!"
After bathing, I came out, fully dressed, and my hair perfect. I tied it with a golden ribbon, and tied an identical one over my petticoat.
"Lovely, as always, Miss Giry."
"Did you think that as you tried to kill me seven years ago?"
A pause.
"I didn't know it was you."
"I know that," I said. "It was only because of my mother you didn't kill me." I stopped.
"How...how is my mother?" I whispered. Lunch was by my bed side, and although I wasn't hungry, I saw the food and sat down, and started nibbling on some toast.
"She scowered Paris for you, of course. Thought you were totally gone. Kidnapped."
I looked down. "Is she-"
"She's alive. Hasn't been the same when you left, but of course, your name appeared in the papers."
I stared up.
"It was just before you were sixteen. Mme. Giry was searching any trails of you. Meg, adoptions are listed in the newspapers, just like divorces, births, and marriages..."
I put my head into my hands.
"You got adopted? Really, Meg. That was below the belt."
"Shut up," I hissed.
"You can be with her again, you know."
My head shot up.
"What do you mean?"
He didn't reply.
"Does it have something to do with why you brought me here?"
A few minutes of silence passed, and I didn't move, just stared.
"Megara, haven't you wanted to be a star?"
I stared. "Of course that's what I wanted," I spat. "But all you and my fiance ever wanted was Christine."
"Oh, come now. How can you say that name with such disdain?"
I didn't respond.
"Megara, I can make you...a star. My star. You saw what I did for Christine-"
"Where is she, by the way? You kill her?"
He was silent before replying,"Raoul impregnated her, and they had to be married at once. She is now a very famous singer in most parts of Europe."
I nodded. "Of course."
"Megara, I can do for you what I did for her."
I shook my head. "I was a pawn before and I'll just be a pawn again. No."
"Why would I go to this length for a pawn?"
Damn, he was making sense.
"Meg, if you look, you'll find sheet music under your bed."
I looked, and I did. Scanning over it, I was perplexed.
"This is vaudeville," I said.
"Yes."
"...It's a strip tease."
He sighed. "Megara, we all start somewhere."
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------NESSA'S POV
I sat there watching the rest of the team stumble out of the bathroom. They looked ghostly pale and ready to pass out.
"You guys go to bed for the night. Me, Morgen, and Rossi will work on the case."
They groaned and shuffled of to their rooms. God who would just eat a ton of foreign food if they hadn't tested their stomachs strenght.
"Rossi check the link and see if there is anything new. Morgen start a preliminary search of people Meg pissed off in France. I'll start compiling reasons why someone would kidnap that Queen of the Albino Bitches."
They got to their searches and I started on mine. I couldn't think of one reason that out of the blue someone would kidnap our bitch.
"Ness we have a new video!"
The video was of him and Meg talking. At the end she pulled out the sheet music. Vaudeville. A strip tease. God if he did anything to her. I don't know what I'd do to that gay, mask wearing son of a bitch. Only a male prostitute would wear a half mask. I bet he got sweet touches down south from a fifteen year old paperboy. I bet his fantasies involved dropping the soap in prison. I bet he got off on those tights football players wore. I bet he hoped for police brutality. God I was getting worked up now.
I sat down and we had new clues. He knew this Christine and he worked with her in musical theater. He also knew Meg from the opera. I guess it was time to interview Madame Giry.
********************************************************************************
MEG'S POV
"No," I said.
"It's only to get your feet off the ground. I don't have the Opera Populair under my control anymore, Megara. I do, however, own a theme park on Coney Island. My only missing attraction-"
"Is a hooker?"
"Is you, Megara. Every Scarlett has to pay her debts."
"No...not like this, not this way!" I screamed, throwing the music. "Can we run over it a little bit. The back one, yes, see, that ones not a strip tease."
My eyes eased out of their scowl. "...True."
"Sing for me, Megara."
How many time had I dream of hearing those words? I did a little scale, then let my voice vibrato as I began.
"Weeeelllll-ccoooooommmmeeeee,
Each and everyone to our firmament of fun,
a buffet of ballyhoo!
It's where Coney comes to play,
and it's opening today
and it's only for you!
Entertainment day and night,
sure to dazzle and delight!
And of course we'll be there too
Yoo-hoo!
We're so happy that you're here
for the season's big premiere
and it's only for you!!"
My voice rang back to me, clear, but it was as tacky as I meant for it to sound. Perfect for vaudeville, and all my choral training was just thrown out the window.
"That was disgusting," I said. "You used to compose so beautifully."
"When the right voice sang it."
"Then give me something like that!" I groaned.
"You're not ready."
I stepped back. "I was right. I am just a pawn, but one that's going to play a major role, am I wrong? Then I guess I'm more of knight. You're going to have to use a few more moves to get me," I said, my French accent coming through.
"Do not fret, Megara, I have some moves to spare."
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------NESSA'S POV
I walked up to the rooms and as much as I hated to wake them up I kicked each door. I heard groans from each door and they all stumbled out. They looked like zombies. I heard a distinct female voice behind me. Emily! I realized we had forgotten about Emily in this whole mess. I flashed back to the day we called Emily.
"Dad we need to call Emily."
"Urggghhh Laterrrrrrr."
He sounded like a teenage girl or me. He picked up his phone and dialed Emily.
"Hello?"
"Hey Emily.
"What do you need Hotchner?"
"Ummmm well you see Meg, I mean surely, You dont need to come, but of course...."
I had him clip the bluetooth to my ear.
"Its Nessa. Meg was kinda taken."
"WHHHHHHAAAAAAATTTTTTTTT!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?! WHAT DO YOU MEAN MY DAUGHTER WAS TAKEN?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!"
"She was kinda kidnapped and taken to Paris or Orleans."
"AND YOU JUST NOW INFORM ME?????????????
"We just found out ourselves!"
"I CAN'T TALK TO YOU GUYS RIGHT NOW!!!! I'LL MEET YOU IN PARIS!!!!!!"
I guess she finally got here.
"Nessa dear, How big you have gotten! You must be pickin boys right and left."
"Meg would be so happy to see you Emi."
I purposefully changed the subject from boys.
"I'm sad I had to come under such circumstances."
We got on the road to visit Megs blood mother. She lived out in the countryside at a old chateau. We got there and I saw an old and pucker mouthed version of Meg waiting in the front lawn.
" 'ello I am Madame Giry."
She had the same voice as Meg but with the thickest french accent I ever heard.
"We are the team that is looking for your daughter. I need to know of relations your daughter had."
"Come inside s'il vous plaît. I 'ave tea ready."
"Of course Madame Giry."
We followed her into her modest home. I saw many photos of Meg at several different ages. She was the same looking in every photo except she got bigger.
"Madame we need the names of all the men Meg associated with while at the opera. Also they trained a young lady by the name of Christine. Does that ring any bells?"
"W'at you are asking is very 'ard. But a couple of names come to mind. There is Raoul, and Erik. Bot' 'ad ties wit' the two of t'em. But Raoul is married with C'ristine now. You can be sure if Erik is involved you will be 'ard pressed to save my daug'ter.
"Ma'am, Do you think Erik could be involved?"
"I t'ink it very likely."
"Thank you ma'am."
We stood up and proceeded out the door. We had got what we came for and now we could put the pieces together.
**************************************************************************
MEG'S POV
"Again."
Erik watched me from his piano. The door on the left side of my room, was a ballet studio, with white marble floors, the cleanest mirrors I've ever seen, and black hand rails, made of the absolute softest mineral ever. I frowned.
"My feet are bleeding," I said.
"Your feet constantly bled while you were at the Corps. You kept rags in your shoes. Your feet, Meg, worked the hardest. Christine didn't even compare to your dancing, Meg. There, she was second best."
I stared forward at him. He admitting that Christine was second to me was the sweetest sound ever. My whole life, all I'd ever been was second to Christine Daae, in anyone's eyes.
"...Again," he said.
I obeyed, twirling on the porcelain floor. My feet soared higher than they ever had, and my face, which should never smile during my art, beamed. My movements are fluid, and I gave everything to my dance. My passion, my soul, everything, just like I used to.
"Your art is everything, Meg," my mother once said to me. "If you cannot sacrifice everything for it, the sacrifices you've already have gone to nothing."
"Mama," I said, smiling. She lifted me up, and my fingers grasped for her long braid.
Erik watched silently, and without moving.
"Again, Megara. Until it is perfect."
I wasn't discouraged at the lack of praise, for I knew I had done better. I moved into the first turn, letting my body sweep around the floor. Only for Him...
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
NESSA'S POV
We loaded up the car and began our drive back to the office. I sat there in quiet contemplation of what we had learned.
How many times had I heard Meg call those names in the midst of nightmares? How often had she flinched when I asked about those names in the morning?
God....... Sono così stupido!
I mentally smacked myself for my idiocy. How had I not seen the signs of her anxiety about them!
Maybe questioning Christine could help us in this matter.
********************************************************************************
MEG'S POV
I didn't know why I started crying last night. I was shaking and my muscles were tired and worn, and I hadn't eaten in a while. He was feeding me less and less, down to the diet of a perfect ballerina. I frowned. That had been the first thing to change in America. Chocolate. I was never allowed to have it. You'd be frightened to learn the number of gallons of Mint Chocolate Ice Cream in my freezer at home.
He brought me another blanket, and asked me if I wanted him to sedate me, to help me sleep. I told him no, I didn't. I didn't want numb anymore. I wanted answers. But I used to work with the greatest minds in the world, and even they couldn't tell me.
Used to work. I think my heart just broke. I knew the green light was on, like it always was, but I couldn't stop sobbing. I was calling out names. Anyone's. Emily's, Penelope's, Nessa's, Morgan's, Christine's. I called out for my birth mother. I called out for Reid. I called out to anyone who would listen.
Erik came in, and I felt his hands on my neck. I felt the needle go in, and I slipped into darkness.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------NESSA'S POV
We started the longer drive to Christine's house farther up from Paris. She lived far enough out so as to never worry about city problems. She was the last evidence we needed to pin the crime on Erik. If we could clear Raoul's name we could get the damn warrant.
We finally got to the humble abode of one Mrs. Daae. I saw a little boy of about three running wild in the front yard. He was handsome with curly brown hair, pale skin with freckles, and gorgeous brown eyes. From the descriptions of Christine this was a carbon copy. I saw a woman watching him that couldn't be older then Meg so 19 at the most.
Was this Christine? She couldn't be old enough to be a mother. I saw her scoop the boy up and walk towards us. She had a cream colored lacy dress. It was floor length and had wrist length sleeves. It was a turtle neck style and she had cream colored flats on. She looked gorgeous and I could see why Meg was jealous. She came closer and I could see she was roughly 5' and she couldn't have weighed more than 95 lbs. She was the epitome of beauty. She had milk white skin and chocolate eyes. She had curly brown hair and long black eyelashes. She spoke and her voice drew you in like flies to honey.
" 'ello I'm C'ristine. You must be t'e Americans I talked to."
A man walked up behind her and drew her back against him.
"T'is is my 'usband Raoul. And my son Gustave."
I spoke up.
"He is very adorable ma'am. It's very nice to meet you. Meg talked of you often."
"I would t'ink she 'ated me."
"She never did."
*******************************************************************************
MEG'S POV
I found out I woke in America. Coney Island. A freak show, called Phantasma.
Days passed, and rehearsals were underway. I had a horde of showgirls, and the freaks would sit and watch us.
I loved the freaks. In their way, they were beautiful.
My tops were just enough to cover my breasts, my stomach shown. My skirts were short, and I had on high stilettos. It was gold and red, and ruby encrusted. I had a large head piece, that quite reminded me of my friend Carlotta's when we performed La Carlotta.
I wondered if Erik did that on purpose.
Opening night, I wondered into my master's office, to which he handed me a letter.
"Put this in the post immediately, Miss Giry," he said, without looking up from his pen.
"Yes, Master," I said, smiling wide. I skipped out the door, only to read to whom the letter was addressed.
Madame Vicomtesse Christine DeChagny nee Daae.
My heart stopped. I carelessly tore open the letter, and read it.
Christine was to come tonight to sing. This was to go to the balcony apartment of the hotel in town. Christine had been here three days, and I never knew.
Christine Daae would be the star tonight, with the perfect aerie Erik had composed.
I was nothing but a pawn. Just like last time, and just as I will be for the rest of my life.
No.
I can change everything. Who ever said it had to be for the better? It will change everything, though, for good.
***
"Hello, Miss Giry," Gustave said. I'd been with Christine five hours now. She was going on soon, and I was charged with watching Gustave. The hello's and how-do-you-do's? where painful, but I had survived.
"Hello, Gustave," I said. "Gustave, would you like to go exploring with me?"
"Oh, yes, ma'am!"
I was crying with what I was about to do. I felt the gun in my bag, my hand holding it close to me.
"Come with me Gustave."
***
"Miss Giry, I can't swim!"
"Don't worry, Gustave, it's almost over."
"Please, you're hurting me!"
I was holding Gustave tightly against me. The gun was in my hand. I was going to end it all here. Right now. We were at the pier, and it was so cold, no one was around us. Early November was around, and the sea was frosted over. I spun when I heard the footsteps, and the sickeningly sweet soprano voice of Christine.
"Gustave!"
"Mother!"
I pulled the gun. "Not another step!"
"Meg-" Erik began.
"Not another word!" I screamed. "Always wondered how to make you watch, well watch me now!" I had all eyes. Raoul's, Erik's, and Christine's.
"I took a little trip to Coney Island," I sang. "I took a little trip because of you," I nudged the gun in Erik's direction. "I did as mother said, and followed where you lead, and tried to do what little I could do. Well, here's the way it works on Coney Island. They make you pay for every little crumb. I gave what they would take. I gave it for your sake. Now look at me and see what I've become...Bathing Beauty...on the beach. Bathing beauty in her dressing room. Bathing Beauty in the dark. On their laps in their arms in their beds." I was sobbing. Thinking of Jason and Jace, and all those men who paid a thousand for a kiss, but only fifty cents for my soul.
"Meg-" Christine began, but Erik cut her off.
"What are you saying?"
I stared. "Who helped you raise the money? Who helped the permits come through? Who greased the wheels of your high-flying deals, bought you time when the bills came due? Who swayed the local bosses? Carried favor with the press?" I laughed darkly. "No, not her." I pointed the gun in Christine's face.
"And who kept singing? Desperate for your favor? Who kept dancing? Hoping you would sav her? Who kept dying and this is what you gave her!" I was sobbing wildly, waving my gun. I pushed Gustave to them.
"And now that I've got your attention at last, here's the big finish and then you can go!" I pushed the gun barrel toward my temple sobbing wildly. My trigger finger trembled, but then, so did the ground beneath my feet. I looked up. I looked up, at the BAU helicopter.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
NESSA'S POV
"W'at did you need to know?"
"Have you heard anything from Erik?"
"W'y would I tell you if I did?"
"Because your best friend is in danger."
"W'o said I even liked Meg?"
"You are a terrible person Christine! You don't deserve Meg!"
"You take t'at back! I loved 'er!
"Obviously not! You didn't ever spare a thought to her feelings! You never noticed that she was always second to you!"
"You don't t'ink I tried to c'ange t'at? Gud vet hur jag försökte ändra på det!
She lapsed into Swedish. I knew from reading that she was actually Swedish by nature. Not French.
She glanced up.
"I did receive a letter from Erik. He wants me to preform in America at his new show Phantasma. It features Meg. I promised I would be there before I found out Meg had been taken."
"Where is it at?"
"It's at Coney Island."
"We pealed out of there and I rushed a thank you and good bye to Christine. We drove towards the airport and our plane was waiting. We rushed aboard and sat down. I felt us take off. I sat there and chewed my lip. We were so far from Meg. We thought we had her and she disappeared again. I guess I must have drifted off because I felt the plane prepare for landing. We got off and I followed dad to the helicopter we were taking to the scene. God if anything happened to Meg. Tonight bitches WILL die!
********************************************************************************
MEG'S POV
I stared hopelessly, as my families, the one that had broken my heart in Paris, and this knew one, sinking in to me, were both before me, here, to witness my final performance.
Nessa came out, her eyes wide and afraid.
"Megara!" she screamed, but Hotch held her back.
The tears were dripping down my face, my sobs so loud and ringing. I caught sight of Reid, the man I couldn't admit to myself that I loved, his face distorted with concern and grief: he knew I could do this, end my own life in a blink of an eye. It meant that little to me.
Erik stepped forward cautiously.
"Give me the gun, Meg," he said. I tightened my grip on it, refusing to let his voice lull me into happiness.
"Give me the hurt and the pain and the gun, Meg. Give me the blame for not seeing the things that you've done, Meg." His dark eyes behind the mask, so full of emotion. His voice was harder as he urged,"Give me the gun, Meg. Give me the chance to see you clear at last."
That did it.
"She me clear at last?" I asked. He nodded.
"You feel ugly, you feel used. You feel broken, you feel bruised. Ah, but me, I can see, all the beauty underneath."
I nodded, entranced. "Yes." '
"You've been robbed of love and pride. Been ignored and pushed aside. Even so, I still know, there is beauty underneath."
My grip was slacking down, the gun almost to my chin. "Y-Yes..."
"Diamonds never sparkle bright, if they aren't set just right. Beauty sometimes goes unseen. We can't all be like Christine."
Her mere name caused my muscles to tighten, and my grip on the gun. I sneered.
"Christine...Christine...ALWAYS CHRISTINE!"
The gun fired, and lodged itself into Erik's arm. He screamed.
"No!" I cried. "I didn't mean to!"
Hotch and Morgan went for him, and I felt arms wrap around me, my white cotton dress stuck to my body by the salt water. I smelt cotton and dust and a stale sort of smell...very faded....I inhaled, and gripped the wrists of Spencer Reid. He was sobbing into my neck, mumbling.
"God, I thought I'd lost you before...and then I saw you with that gun...I never thought...Meg, why would you..." he just kept mumbling, until I attached my lips to his neck, and nipped at the skin. His breath caught.
"You haven't had coffee in a while," I said, sitting on the rocky shore, waist deep in water. "I can hardly smell it on you."
Spencer stared, until he, in his crisp oxford and dress slacks, sat down next to me, tears still in his eyes.
"I really missed you," he said. I nodded, leaning into him.
"I missed you too."
***
I was leaning on Morgan and Reid, as they helped me into the hotel, my white cotton dress stuck to me, my long hair soaked. I heard a choked sob, and looked up. Emily Prentiss. She stood before me, black dress, black hair, make-up, all flawless. I could tell she was wreck. I pushed myself out of the boys arms, and slowly stumbled to her, before falling into her arms.
"Meg," she whispered, sniffing,"someone...someone is here for you."
But she didn't need to say it, because I looked up, and saw her. The woman that gave me life, breath, and the passion of dance. Madame Giry. My mother.
And I tripped out of Emily's arms, and stared. And for the first time in five years, I stumbled into her arms, and for the first time in a very long time, I was wanted.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------NESSA'S POV
We hit ground and I realized the circle was around Meg. She had a gun and I assumed at first it was trained on Erik. I looked closer and saw it was facing her. She wouldn't................would she? Had I been wrong about her from the start. Was I that same naive girl I once was? Had I really missed all those signs? Did I even know the true Meg? Was I any better than Christine? Meg............forgive me. It was never my intention. I should have called and should have asked. I saw her pull the gun up to her head and I acted on instinct.
"MEGERA!"
I lunged at her and dad grabbed my waist before I could get far.
"DAD LET ME GO! LET ME GO!"
I struggled but my strength was minuscule compared to his. I heard that bastard talking to Meg and dad tightened his grip so I couldn't go after him. That sonofabitch was sweet talking Meg but you could see the mistake when he said Christine. God that was the worst thing he could have done. I saw her resolve harden and I waited for the gun shot. It finally came but not the way I was expecting. I saw the bullet hit Erik and saw his arm gush. I saw Meg fall into Hysterics and felt my dad leave me to grab Erik. I saw Reid lunge at Meg and yank her back. They toppled into the sea and Meg clasped onto him. JJ yanked me back towards the helicopter. We were giving Meg and Reid a chance to reunite. I sat on my seat and waited. We had to convince Meg to give Reid a go. Judging by her reaction however she already had. I couldn't wait to get home. All of my family intact. Plus we had a surprise at home for Meg. I saw Christine get on the heli. I guess dad invited her to come back with us. She walked over and sat down.
"Nessarose I am so sorry for w'at I 'ave done!"
" I can't say I'll forgive you. You hurt Meg grievously. But I will thank you for helping us to find her."
"T'at means a lot. I t'ink it best I go back to France t'oug'."
"I agree."
We sat there in silence and I felt the copter shake. I saw Reid get on. He was carrying an asleep Meg. She looked blissfully passed out and he looked the best I had seen him since she got abducted. He has color back and that little smirk he usually wore.
The rest of the filed on and sat down. There was more mirth in the air and jokes were being cracked. No one realized how important Meg was to us until she was gone. But now she was here and we could go back to normal. Or as normal as this job got.
“I am convinced that, except in a few extraordinary cases, one form or another of an unhappy childhood is essential to the formation of exceptional gifts.”
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