Chapter 1 : The Mute

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Warnings- none for this chapter

Disclaimer: I don't own Phantom of the Opera or any of its characters.

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She was a little, mute girl.

That was the phrase that was whispered around the opera house early one morning. It started in the manager's office. Armand had made the mistake of telling his secretary, Mlle Adeline- a petite woman with a mouth as big as Paris- that a new arrival would be joining the Opera Populaire later on that evening.

"Please try to be polite Mlle, the girl is…"

"She is what, Monsieur?"

"She is mute. And I would appreciate it if this information stayed in this office"

"Of course, Monsieur."

From there, it was mere hours before the information was passed to the ballet rats to the stagehands and then on to Carlotta herself.

"A mute!" She laughed.

"That's what I heard from Henry, Madame."

"I was unaware this was a zoo." Carlotta sniffed, sitting languidly in a plush chair in her dressing room. "Let us all hope she can at least take orders like a good mutt."

By the time the girl was nearing arrival, everyone had heard and were waiting with bated breath. Rehearsals that day were filled with gossip, and the director had an exhausting time trying to get everyone to focus. No one knew, besides the fact the manager's knowledge of her coming and her supposed disability, anything about her. Stories grew and stretched to outrageous proportions in no time.

"Perhaps she is a bastard child from one of the managers?"

"I heard she is running away from the law!"

"Or maybe a lover!"

"I wonder if she is a witch? Perhaps she takes revenge on those who ridicule her!"

"Or maybe they have hired her to kill the Opera Ghost!"

"Oh shush with that nonsense Clarice! We all know the Opera Ghost is dead."

Since the incident of the falling chandelier no one had heard hide nor hair from the infamous ghost. It had been somewhat of a concern when the managers decided to rebuild and reopen the opera house, but there wasn't a single incident to mention. No plans stolen, or worker injuries that were out of the ordinary- not even a whisper of sabotage to the workmen's lunches. Christine Daae had run off with her Vicomte, Raoul de Changy, and the two were happily married with a child on the way, living on the very outskirts of France. But the Phantom had all but disappeared. Some of the ballet girls still claimed they saw a masked fiend wandering the halls late at night, but most of the stories were cast off as silly fears from walking around in the dark. People had all but believed the murderer was long dead somewhere beneath the floors of the Opera.

Little did everyone know…

The Phantom of the Opera was alive, and lurked within the shadows of the opera house with renewed strength. During the first few months after the loss of Mlle Daae he had sulked within his underground lair, broken, insane, and lonely. His pride was the most damaged thing about him however, and he let it remain so- for a while at least.

But Erik was a proud man, despite his face, and he managed to finally begin picking up the pieces after his Christine left him shattered.

He felt no love toward that woman, now that she was away and out of his reach his mind could think clearly and the deep hatred was allowed to fester within his heart. How dare that useless cow corrupt him! How dare she take his gift of teaching and perfecting her voice and squander it, abandoning her calling for some young fool of a Vicomte! But his hate for her didn't end there- women in general, all of them, whores and thieves and liars! Deceitful sirens that only wished to harm and destroy. Awful creatures the lot of them.

Yes, the Phantom was far from gone, and he lurked within the shadows of his opera with a new danger about him. His whole life he had been denied everything, pleasure, happiness, companionship, but that stopped the moment he stepped forth from below his hell and into the world that was always out of reach. They thought him dead did they? Ha! He would show them this place was still under his firm control, and everything and everyone in it- be it primadonna or stagehand- belonged to him.

As Erik prowled along the catwalks and observed the stage where a group of ballet dancers were flinging themselves about, he began to hear the rumors of that morning float up to him where he stood in the darkness.

"I wonder what she looks like?"

"She must be ugly! Hideous even!"

"Just because she's mute, doesn't mean she's an ogre."

From his place above them, Erik grinned.

So, a mute would be coming into his domain. A girl from the sound of it.

Interesting.

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Berdine couldn't exactly say she was thrilled with the aspect of living in an opera house for the next two years. She didn't really see a need for it either, her family wasn't poor, her health was superb, and her house wasn't crowded with children with no space to put them. She had two older siblings, both boys, and they had married and moved out of their parent's house long before Berdine was of age. Her parents had just come up to her one day and asked if she wanted to get out and explore the world a bit, and told her of her uncle that was a manager for an opera house in Paris. At first she turned it down. Why would she be interested in a place with loose primadonnas and grabby, old stagehands? She liked music well enough, and operas were fun to attend with her friends but overall she really had no interest in actually living in an opera house.

Her parents, however, weren't about to give up so easily and so began the weeks of being hinted at and pushed into what they thought was 'the right direction'.

And that was how she found herself in a carriage traveling down the streets of Paris with a suitcase seated next to her. She found that the city itself wasn't as grand as she first pictured it to be, for it reeked of horse manure and cheap perfume. The buildings were far bigger than she was used to, but overall she wasn't very impressed.

"You'll love Paris, Birdy!" Her mother cooed to her while she was packing her bags with a heavy raincloud over her head. "It's so beautiful! And has lots of handsome suitors!"

That had been her hint. Her mother wanted her to bring back some rich, noblemen she was sure, and that may or may not have had a big influence in her parents push for this trip. They weren't financially unstable by any means- her mother was just a hopeless romantic.

Lots of handsome suitors my foot, she thought as the carriage passed yet another old, hairy, overweight man.

She knew the real reason her parents wanted her out of the house, but she dreaded acknowledging it. Her need to lock herself away for hours at a time and never really leaving the house unless it was to run the occasional errand had begun to worry her family. She wasn't very sociable by nature and tended to stay away from people, and this was probably why she had been forced from her comfort zone and thrust into society head first.

"It will be good for you." Her father had informed her like he was trying to sell one of his cows to a local farmer. "Think about it! Getting out of this little, boring town for a while and exploring one of the biggest cities in France!"

She had thought about it, and came to the conclusion such a thing was a big waste of her time.

A pout was still present on her face when the carriage jerked to a stop and the driver announced that they had arrived at the Opera Populaire. Berdine looked out the window to the looming structure, all doom and gloom from her standpoint. The building looked old, and yet new in some aspects like the moulding and trimming, a few statues that looked fresh from a sculptor's hands situated around the grounds in strategic nonsense, and the many posters announcing various plays and people.

So overall about as charming as my brother Friedrich when he's gotten into the gin stash, she thought dryly and grabbed her case before exiting the carriage and nodding to the driver to let him know he could leave.

She watched him pull away from the curb and continue on his way down the busy street. It wasn't until he disappeared from her sight completely that she finally faced the stone staircase before her. I can still run, passed her mind before she took her first step and walked on until she entered the main hall. The heavy doors shut behind her with finality and she found herself inside a grand hall with rich colors of gold and red that screamed aristocracy. She noted another grand staircase and silently wondered if she would be forced to climb many of those during her stay… she hoped not.

The sound of light footsteps suddenly assaulted her ears and she turned to see a small woman coming towards her like a raging bull barely constrained by the horns. Berdine could tell from the way the woman cleary was bouncing on her feet that she was extremely excited about something and backed up a few steps warily. The woman came to a halt just mere feet from her and was about to extend a hand but thought better of it before retracting it just as quickly.

"Good afternoon young Mlle!" Then her gaze turned almost sly when she whispered "Don't worry, M Armand has made it clear to me your… illness."

Illness? Berdine was puzzled.

"Yes," She barreled right on like some conspirator about to be apprehended "He says you're mute! But don't worry, he invites you here with open arms! Your room is right this way, follow me." And she was off and running again.

But for a few moments, Berdine stood stock still in shock at what she had just heard. Mute… one of her older brothers was mute- had been since he was born. She was quiet, yes, but far from incapable of speech. She had to gather her wits in order to keep from outright laughing. It seems her dear uncle had had a slight mix up in memory who had been the mute of his family, and Berdine wanted to giggle at this opportunity now set before her.

The whole way to Paris she had been conjuring up ways to get out of as much social interaction as she could.

But apparently she wouldn't have to say a damn word.

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Author's note: Well, I shouldn't really be starting another story but this practically wrote itself. Please review and tell me if I should continue or what you all think.

IiR