Hi, guys! Before you read on, please take a moment or two to read this author's note- there are a few details that I feel the readers should be made aware of. First and foremost, while this fiction may contain sprinkles here and there of an Erik/Christine pairing, it is not. There is an original female character here and the majority of this story will be told from her perspective. While I do not intend for it to be an Erik/OW romance at this point, I haven't completely ruled out the possibility. I will ask for your opinion further on (once I feel my character has been developed enough), whether or not to proceed with a romance. I've also tried my best to keep away from turning her into a Mary-Sue, but clearly you are the judge of that. One of the main reasons I am writing this piece is to be able to apply my coursework in a more unique, creative, and fun way rather than writing essays. Personally, I am in love with the subject material and am writing this as much for my own benefit as yours, and so it isn't really of much consequence to me whether or not my character is a Sue. Lastly, I've pushed the events of the original story ahead nearly 50 years, so instead it occurs around 1920 (the relations between canon characters will remain the same, but I need to do this mainly because I am horrible at writing period pieces). Also, while this legal system is probably inaccurate no matter where you come from- it will be much more reflective of a modern American/Canadian one than a French system. That said, I hope some of you are still with me, and I hope you enjoy!

One thing I had learned very quickly about Parisian society was that it was unfortunately, incredibly vain. Perhaps not the same vanity as we know the term today, but prior to that time I had never given much thought into the importance of outward appearances. I did not see, as I do now, how something as complicated and diverse as character could be derived from one's appearance alone. Of course I am certainly not one to talk; admittedly, I am not entirely innocent of making quick, regressive judgements towards the homeless or the homosexuals. Guilty as charged. However, it was the injustices faced by a man they deemed a monster that would drastically change my own psyche forever. This poor man was doomed from the moment he was born; from the moment his mother screamed at the first glance of her son's pathetic, disfigured face. Fate had carved Erik's path in stone at that exact moment, for he never had the chance to lead a normal, happy life. He would always be 'the Devil's Child'. It truly was a pity.

The people versus Erik Dupuis was my very first case. In many ways, or at least in the courtroom, the trial was much more about me than it was about Erik. It was my first time in the limelight; it was what I had worked so long for. And here it was; my first case was essentially impossible to win. It was a lost cause, my brother had once said. Erik had nothing, he was nothing. There were much more pressing issues than Erik's freedom; my own public image was equally as important at the time. I had to hold my own against the district attorney; I had to control and manipulate the witnesses with ease. I had to convince everyone, including myself, that I was a good lawyer.

As my supervisor had informed me right at the very beginning, the facts were unmistakably clear. Erik had set fire to the Paris opera house, killing three patrons that night including one of the actors, Ubaldo Piangi. I assumed it was some kind of failed attempt to woo the leading lady, Christine Daae. In fact, I had later learned that almost everything he did was an attempt to have Miss Daae in his possession. It was a fact that would make defending him an even more difficult task, if it wasn't so already. A mob, consisting of various stagehands, angry patrons and a few officials had spontaneously formed to try and capture 'the Phantom of the Opera'. And they certainly did. Witnesses had reported seeing the crowd savagely beat the man once they had caught him. Officials had bound him with rope once the mob had gotten him outside. The sounds of it were apparently reminiscent of some kind of religious chanting. They had to capture him; dead or alive. The force was justified because Erik was much too dangerous to let go of; he was a serious threat to society. While that was probably true it was one of the only defences I had to begin with. A witness once told me that his face was completely covered in blood after they were finished with him. The only areas of his face which were clear were those where his tears had washed away the blood stains. Of course, this was only on the left.

Unsurprisingly, Monsieur Dupuis had not resisted arrest. The trial date had been set accordingly. I would meet Erik in five days.

Not even the cold chill of the wind could tarnish the absolute stillness of that January morning. The sun had just risen not thirty minutes ago and the landscape was still very quiet as the residents just began to wake up and prepare themselves for another day in Paris. A single trolley car headed south just a little ways towards the center of the city. Trailing further and further behind the tram was a woman; one hand gripping fiercely onto her briefcase while the other planted itself firmly on her overly large and unnecessary hat. Due to entire fault of her own she had just missed the boarding of the trolley, and her efforts to chase it were quickly becoming futile. It didn't take long for her to give up, since her little heeled feet were protesting lividly at the sudden stretch of exercise. She looked at her pocket watch; it was already well past seven thirty in the am and she was told to be there for eight.

I knew I should have done my hair last night.

The latter half of the run took nearly fourty minutes, but she eventually arrived at her destination, albeit in a dishevelled state. Flinging open the courthouse's doors, she raced into the lobby area, running straight into her supervisor and colleague, Léon Durrante. The man caught and steadied her briefly before she took them both down.

"Christ, Beaupré. Get up or Rousseau won't think twice about suspending me or you." He said, gathering the stray pieces of papers that had fallen out of the file he had been holding.

Regina nodded, picking up a few of the papers and handing them to her supervisor as he grabbed her arm and helped her back to her feet. "Right, sorry Léon," she blurted, brushing of her skirt as the blonde man returned the hat to her head.

"You're late."

"I know, I'm sorry," she began as they started walking.

"Fix your skirt, and your blouse."

"Why?"

"Because you need to look good when you thank Rousseau."

Well, goodness, why have I been wasting my time?

Frowning, Regina shook her head. "Why would I want to thank Rousseau? I hate him; the man's a royal asshole. And he's never looked good a day in his life. Do you how long it takes to look like this for eight in the am…", she paused for the briefest of moments and plastered a less-than-honest but all the while cheerful smile upon her face, "Good morning, Mr. Martin!".

"Good morning, Regina," replied a man only slightly older looking than Léon who served as a bailiff.

As they started up the circular set of stairs, Léon continued, "He's given you a case."

"A case if scotch, right?" she muttered underneath her breath.

"Two counts of murder one, three counts of second-degree murder, kidnapping and arson no less," he handed her the folder of files.

"Really?"

"Yes."

In astonishment, she flipped through the various documents. "Erik Dupuis."

"He's probably better known as 'the Phantom of the Opera'."

"You're joking."

"No. You've never heard of it? Those chorus girls apparently wouldn't give it a break. They're worse than a damn sewing circle."

"Oh, yes, I think I remember hearing about this a few days ago. He set the whole opera house on fire."

"That's right. He killed one of the actors right on the spot; it was definitely pre-meditated. I'm not sure of the whole story. Somehow he had caused the chandelier to fall, resulting in three more deaths. Then he kidnapped the Viscount's lady friend. She was performing the opera at the time with it; Rousseau had said he was quite obsessed with her."

By coincidence, Regina's fingers were grazing over the particular record in which the girl's name was documented on. "Christine Daae."

"Yes", he replied quietly. "This was all in front of over fifteen hundred witnesses."

Sighing, the redhead shook her head in annoyance. "Great, so my first case I can't possibly win."

"Just take it as a learning experience, Regina. That's all you can do."

"Thank you for agreeing with me- oh, there's Rousseau", tucking the folder under her arm for a split second, she smoothed out her skirt, tucked a piece of hair behind her ear and cleared her throat. Her steps were evenly paced and announced as she approached her boss. "M. Rousseau, I would like to thank you very much for your confidence in me with handling this case. I can assure you I will-"

"I don't have any confidence in you," the man stated harshly, his voice was almost condemning as he reached the word 'have'. "He's guilty. A complete idiot can try this case and not make it any worse. A monkey can try this case and not make it any worse than it already is."

Regina stammered, trying to pull out of mid air a response to her boss's condescending remarks. "Thank you, Mr. Rousseau," she said, innocently.

"A monkey- remember that."

Turning back to Léon, she blinked, speechless. He shrugged in reply, "well, I guess that makes you the monkey then. Come on-", he lightly grabbed her arm as they crossed the short distance to the holding area. A guard held the door open for them, and another sat at a nice pinewood desk, his feet planted lazily upon the surface of it. Regina silently cursed incompetence as they approached him.

Léon was the first to speak. "M. Thomas, this is Regina Beaupré, she is the legal council for Erik Dupuis."

The guard snorted and pointed to the document on his desk. "Sign the release."

"Yes, Sir." She said quietly, taking the pen from his hands and quickly scribing her signature onto the report. She turned around as she felt her supervisor's hand on her shoulder.

"It is very important to listen to me right now. Keep a good distance away from the bars. This man is very dangerous, he wouldn't think twice about snapping your neck in two if given the chance."

"Léon-" she interjected briefly, "I appreciate your concern. Really, I do. But I'll be fine."

"Alright", he sighed, "I have to go. I'll see you tonight."

"Right."

The guard cleared his throat, and spoke rather loudly in an attempt to be heard over the display. "This way, miss."

The elevator ride down to the lower levels of the courthouse was awkward at best. The guard never said a word and Regina felt slightly out of place, but to her relief it did not last very long anyway. Thomas had unlocked two different sets of doors before entering the main holding area; which was simply one large cell. She followed the guard inside, keeping an eye on the cage intently. It took her a few moments to notice the chained figure in the furthest corner. He did not look in the healthiest of conditions- the bruises and cuts were still prominent, and Regina was sure that they were probably still infected. His arms were covering his head, but it also looked as if he was wearing a burlap sack as well. Regina frowned, looking back over to the guard. "Has he received any medical attention?" She asked quietly.

"As much as he needs."

"I'd like to go inside, please."

"What are you nuts?"

"Well, you have him on a short chain, I can see that much. I'd like to speak to my client face to face."

"Well, I suppose-" the guard began, opening the lock at the front of the cell, "you signed the release." He held the door ajar enough for her to slip inside. "It's your life."

Before he had a chance to lock the door again, Regina caught his hand. "But- if you could just stay there, that would be wonderful."

Turning back to the man in the cell with her, she placed the file down on a small table. "Good morning… M. Dupuis, is it?" She asked, although that name was certainly plastered all over the files- it never hurt to be sure. "Erik Dupuis, that is your name, correct?" She asked again, but he did not answer.

"Well," she began, walking a bit closer to the corner in which he was huddled. "If you can sing, you can certainly speak- so I know you're not mute, M. Dupuis." Again, all that she could hear was his steady, deep breathing. Clucking her tongue, she started again, "Erik Dupuis, I am just going to assume that is your name until you tell me otherwise, how about that? M. Dupuis, I am Regina Beaupré, and throughout the course of this trial I will be serving as your defence attorney. Anything you tell me, which at this particular moment does not seem to be much, will be protected under the attorney-client relationship. So, it is my wish for you to feel at liberty to answer my questions honestly, and in an entirely forthright fashion."

She watched closely as Erik shifted, exposing the burlap sack that covered his face. The sight unnerved her- why would they put that thing over his head? "You know, M. Dupuis, the trial is in a few weeks. We both have to be ready and willing to answer when our name is called. I can't help you unless you talk to me, Erik." She sighed in annoyance when he said nothing, and she couldn't help but raise her voice. "Are you listening?!"

"Jesus Christ," she muttered underneath her breath, as she sat down on the little wooden stool that was in another corner. Crossing her legs and leaning forward, Regina watched him for a few minutes; then she got bored. "Why don't you take that thing off your head, Erik? It's very hot in here. I don't know how you can stand it." His only response was to turn around, his back facing her. Once again crossing the short distance of his cell, she looked back at the guard to get his attention before reaching for the offensive piece of material.

Before she got even a chance to touch it, Erik was at his feet at once, grabbing her tightly by the shoulders as he drove her back into the bars. A whimper left her throat as she looked up, right into his golden eyes. Everything went still for a moment, and she would later swore that he had hissed something to her- although between the yelling of the guards and the pounding of her heart she could not hear whatever it was he had said. It was not long until several guards had Erik's hands pried from her shoulders, and one escorted her safely from the holding room.