Okay, first fanfic in a while. But I have recently become obsessed with Phantom of the Opera (and Love Never Dies). I haven't seen LND but I have listened to the soundtrack multiple times, and I totally get what the story is about. This fanfic is basically about 5 years after. Gustave and Phantom are in NYC, Gustave is growing up, etc. I'm going to wait till this gets a few reviews before I continue. Let me know what you think.

All characters and original story belong to Gaston Leroux (he wrote the original Phantom of the Opera book) and Andrew Lloyd Webber.

Chapter 1: Hearing her sing

Gustave

I first heard her sing on the first day of school. It was an accident, of course. I hadn't meant to hear, but once I did, I couldn't stop.

I was attending a private academy here in NYC, a school my father intended I graduate from. He wanted me to have the education he lacked in his childhood. The year was 1912, and I had just turned 15. It had been 5 years since my mother's death on the pier of Phantasma. My father - Erik, Mr. Y., The Phantom, whatever people have come to call him - took me under his wing, raising me in this strange world that consisted of everyday life, and carnies. I didn't feel like a freak, however, I was too clean, too pure.

I worked alongside my dad in Phantasma, writing music, experimenting. I was just like him. Something I loved when I was younger, but was beginning to fear as I grew. My father's deformity was not something I had taken lightly as a child. I ignored it after living with him for a while, but really, it was something I was glad I did not inherit. His musical genius, however, was my greatest attribute.

Now, back to the school. I was walking in the academy halls, trying to find the music professor, Mr. Jakoby. My father had put in a good word with the man to let me have an audition for the Choir. I was to be in the music hall no later than 4 o'clock, but that wasn't the case on this particular day. I was late, or at least running late, as I got out of the classroom much later than planned.

I somehow managed to find the two large wooden doors that lead to the music room. The one door was slightly ajar, and as I went to open it, I heard a small voice.

"Is it too late, then?" It was the voice of a girl.

"I'm sorry, young lady, but I cannot let anyone in the girls' choir without a scheduled audition." That must have been Mr. Jakoby.

"Can't you just put me in as an extra?" Her voice was high, yet melodic. It reminded me of my mother's.

Mr. Jakoby sighed. "I'm sorry, but I can do no such thing."

I peered through the crack between the doors and saw the girl sitting on one of the raisers clutching both her hands in her lap. She had long dark hair that was tied back in an intricate way with a simple blue ribbon. Her eyes were a startling blue and they looked as though they were beginning to tear. She was crying.

"Sing, girl," Mr. Jakoby snarled at her.

"What, sir?" She looked up frantically, her blue eyes searching.

"Sing. If you sing, I may let you in. But hurry, I am waiting for someone very important and you are distracting me."

The girl stood and quietly sang a hymn that I knew from church. My mouth dropped open as I heard her voice. It was the most hypnotizing sound I had ever been graced to hear. She was a soprano, no doubt, and managed to glide her voice over the notes with such ease.

When she stopped, Mr. Jakoby smiled at her. "Welcome to the choir," he told her.

I took this moment to open the door and walk in. "Sorry for the wait, sir. I had some business to attend to with my father," I lied.

The girl looked up and blushed. Her eyes then dropped back to the ground. I watched her.

"Oh, that's quite fine, young Gustave, is it?"

"Yes, sir. My father spoke to you of an audition to the music program here I assume."

"Yes, he did. Come this way to the piano. We shall begin momentarily." He lead me to a grand piano at the front of the small room. I dropped my bag of books and adjusted my uniform. The girl watched the whole time.

Mr. Jakoby addressed her, "Girl, what's your name?"

She looked up startled. She realized I had seen her staring and blushed again as my eyebrows rose. "Rachel. Rachel Pilon."

"Rachel, you may leave now," he told her. "I shall see you at ten o'clock with the rest of the girls tomorrow."

"Yes, sir." She grabbed her small bag and left the room. I watched after her, wishing with each step away from me, that she could sing for me. Just me.