My first Phantom of the Opera fic, yays!! XD i have about virtually no right to be writing this, what with my (very slow) progress with my other fics (Twin Identities, for one) but please bear with me. And this is going to be very confusing, i was trying to explain it to my sister, and the entire time she was like "what?" so, again, please bear with me.

And on we go....i guess...

A father paced the floor in distress. From the room his wife was in, there was no noise---his wife had stopped screaming a while ago, and while he had expected a baby's cry, there was nothing. He looked up when the midwife walked in, a bundle in her arms.

"The baby?" He asked, his heart sinking. She smiled wryly and held out the baby. He took his son from her and looked at the baby, only to flinch in horror. The baby was breathing, but there was a horrible deformity on the right side of his face. Shivering lightly, he walked into the room where his wife was demanding to see the baby. He presented him to her, and she screamed, yelling at him to get the baby away from her. As he did, she yelled that she was not going to take care of the baby, and did not want it anywhere near her. The baby seemed unaffected, looking around with a calm look in his eyes, but he could tell that the baby understood his mother's rejection. A sudden light seemed to spark in the baby's eyes.

And the baby began to wail.

When he turned two, he said his first word. And to sing his first line of music, all within seconds of each other. It didn't shock the father that his son said anything, or sang. That seemed natrual (for some strange reason). What shocked his father was that it took him so long to say anything. He could've said something sooner---he had been too bright for a baby his own age, often acting at least four years older than he actually was. He had obeyed his mother's direction not to come near her, often leaving a room when she entered once he learned to crawl. Therefore, his father was the only one who heard him speak. He was sitting on a chair, reading the newspaper, the baby playing with a toy on the floor, when suddenly the baby looked at him.

"Christine." He said simply, tears filling his eyes. The young father knelt down, looking at the baby. "It's over now, the Music of the Night."

"Son?" The baby boy looked away.

"Christine..."

A father paced the hallways, trying to keep his mind off of what was happening in the room. He looked up when the midwife entered, a bundle in her hands. She handed him the baby silently.

"My wife?" He asked. She smiled sadly, shaking her head. He nodded his understanding, looking down at the baby. "Her name is Christine."

He had just turned four when his mother gave him his first birthday present in his young life---a black mask. It sparked an argument between the two parents, while he simply went into another room and placed the mask over his face. As soon as he did, a relief spread throughout his features. Not wanting to hear his parents' fight, he wandered to the small toy piano and began plunking on the keys. He hit one key and a whole song followed, his eyes filling with sudden tears as he seemed to recall something. The fighting died down slowly as he continued to play. And to his mother's shock, he began to sing softly.

"And now, how you've repaid me, denied me and betrayed me. He was bound to love you when he heard you sing...Christine..." The mention of Christine again made his father wonder who the girl was. He was brought out of his thoughts when the piano music turned a little...violent suddenly. "You will curse the day you did not do all that the Phantom asked of you!"

She was two, spinning around laughing as her father played the violin for her. Giggling as her father winked at her, she smiled at the people passing by and waved at other little kids. When her father finished a few minutes later, she ran up to him and beamed at him. He coughed into his hand, then placed his violin in the case, taking his daughter's hand in his free hand.
When he was six his father died. He ignored his mother's glare from between rows of relatives and stayed until they put the coffin in the ground. When they started burying his father, he flew off, slamming the door open, pushing it shut. He sat in the chair his father usually sat in while reading the newspaper, or listening to him play. Taking deep breaths, he pulled himself together enough to find himself sitting on the floor, hands on his knees, as if he were presenting himself.

Two hours later, he was still like that, only now he had his mother and two men looking him over. One of the men reached forward, taking the mask off of his face. He sat still, looking up at them, as the men laughed. One gave his mother money; the other grabbed his arm and pulled him forward, slipping a bag over his head. He didn't look back at his mother.

He had been sold.

For a year and a half, he survived the beatings and the torture that was administered to him on a daily basis. He endured the stares and shrieks of horror of being the 'Devil's Child'. Then, when he had finally just snapped, he strangled his 'keeper'. With cries of "Murderer!" behind him, he ran blindly, not knowing where he was going. A small hand in his almost made him stop, but as he looked down at the young girl, she pulled him around a building and opened a door.

"Get in here!" She hissed, pushing him in. As he stumbled in, she came in after him, closing the door. Looking around, he saw candles and how small the room was.

"Where---"

"Shhh!" She put her finger to her lips, ear against the door. When she was satisfied, she pulled away and looked at him. "Wait here, ok? I'm going to go get Maman."

At the age of four, she was used to traveling with her father. She would wave to people passing by in cars, on trains. Sometimes, she would sing as her father played the violin. Usually, she would sit by him as he played, feeling the violin music surround her. When she was five, she was walking by the sea with her father when a sudden gust of wind came, blowing her red scarf into the ocean. She ran all the way up to the edge of the water, looking helplessly at the scarf.

"I'll get it!" A childish voice called from behind her. She turned to see a blur run by her and into the water, a woman screaming at the blur from behind. A few seconds later, someone grabbed her hand from behind. Turning around, she saw a blonde boy holding out a red scarf. Both were soaked. He grinned at her. "Here you go."

"Thank you." She smiled back. "My name's Christine."

"I'm Raoul." The woman came forward, scolding Raoul. Laughing, Christine's father called her as well. Before she left, she leaned forward and gave Raoul a small kiss as thanks.

They met later, and they stayed in the house by the sea. Everyday, they met and played with each other during the summer.

However, at the end of summer, it had been time for them to take their leave and she said good bye to her friend, walking hand-in-hand with her father, away from the house by the sea.

At first, things went great. She sang for her father as he played the violin, and the music surrounded her beautifully.

Even though he had only lived (with the little girl's Maman's approval) under the Opera Populair for a little less than half a year, he quickly got used to the place. It was comforting, to him, to live in the dark. Over time, he managed to get a few instruments, with help from the little girl. He taught himself to play the violin, and they somehow managed to get an organ down into his new home.

Over time, he got used to getting visits---the little girl (who insisted he call her Meg) and her Maman (a stern woman whom he addressed, always, as Madam Giry). They brought him food, and Meg told him of all the other ballet rats---what they did, who they were, things like that. When they weren't with him, he was going through the tunnels of the Opera House, throwing his (already) deep voice around, tormenting the ballet rats and even the managers. He had managed to scare them into giving him money, which made Meg clap in delight and Madam Giry frown in disapproval. However, under the disapproval, he could see the amusement in her eyes.

Well, I had more, but this seems long enough as it is....