A/N: I know this type of story has been done a good few times before- I'm trying to go for something a little different that I haven't seen yet. Very much Leroux-based, some Kay references as well, but very little ALW inspired.

Chapter 1

Dawn.

The sky lightened over the roofs of Paris, tinting everything with a rose gold glow. Below, the waters of the Seine glistened in the early light as it gently burbled past the paved and cobblestone streets. In her small but comfortable hotel room, Claire Tuinstra stretched as the first rays of the sun peeked through her curtains and played across her face. Snuggling deeper under the covers, she curled back into a ball, wishing the light away.

Moments later, Claire's sleep was yet again interrupted- this time by a gentle tune sounding from her smartphone. She groaned and rolled over, smacking the screen approximately where it read "Snooze." No luck. The lilting string piece continued to play.

Forcing herself to sit up, Claire squinted at her phone as she fumbled with the finicky buttons on the touch screen. At last she was able to turn off the alarm and flop back onto the plush bed, but it was too late. Claire was now entirely and irreversibly awake for the day, her mind racing as she thought of her plans for vacation. With a stretch, she shakily pulled herself out of bed.

"Stupid!" she thought fiercely at herself. "Can't even remember to turn off your dang work alarm when you're on vacation- and after going out drinking, no less!" She stumbled a little as she slipped out of the tight jeans she had fallen asleep in the night before after swaying back into her hotel room. Turning on the shower, she stepped into the steamy spray and let the scalding water run over her face to soothe her headache.

Not that she had gotten particularly blitzed the night before- but Claire had to admit that her friends back home were right. She was thirty now, and like a magic switch had been flipped, her tolerance for wild nights of carousing had suddenly vanished, to be replaced by a set of fine lines which traced the edge of her mouth.

"Totally invisible lines," she reminded herself as she worked a healthy dollop of shampoo through her long copper locks. "It's not as though I'm old, after all- I'm just mature."

She snorted at this last thought. While she may have matured in age, she wasn't sure she had ever matured in wisdom since completing college. But perhaps that wasn't fair- she wasn't manager of her department at Fairbanks Insurance for nothing. And at such a young age- Claire had been just 28 when she received the promotion, making her the youngest manager in the company- and one of only four women in her office to hold a supervisory role. It was certainly nothing to sniff at.

She finished her shower quickly and stepped out, feeling greatly refreshed and rejuvenated. She hastily threw on a pair of comfortable black slacks and a matching shirt and headed downstairs, eager to jump into her day if she was going to have to be awake.

Stopping by a local bakery, she picked up some breakfast and dined outside, watching the city slowly wake up. Of course, even at night Paris thrummed with an exuberance matched only in Claire's experience by New York- but there was still a slow ramp up in activity as shops opened their doors, buses began to run more frequently, and people began making their way to work. Being summer, the streets were also soon spotted with children running and playing, eager to soak in the summer while it lasted. Claire smiled as she watched them dash about.

Finishing her croissant, she started out toward her main destination- yesterday had been all about the Louvre and the Palais Garnier, but today was focused on the catacombs. She wondered how the Seattle or New York underground tours would compare after delving into the ancient catacombs of Paris- though she was almost certain they would pale next to the burial place of so many millions of people.

Determined to take as much time as possible soaking up the city, Claire made her way to the catacombs on foot. It was not a quick walk, but it was full of sights and sounds, taking her through the Tuileries, across the Seine, and by at least three very grand churches. Finally she arrived, jogging up to the entrance just in time to join the tour group and the guides who were set to lead them down into the interminable darkness of the ossuaries below.

Claire felt a chill run through her as she descended the long worn staircase leading into the depths. Seeing the catacombs had been high on her list of things to do in Paris, but now that she was actually here the entire thing seemed a little spooky. It certainly didn't help that the only thing on her mind as she stepped carefully down the staircase was the fate of the protagonist in As Above, So Below. Even so, Claire's heart thrummed with excitement as the first wall of bones appeared ahead of her.

The first time she had been to Paris, she hadn't even been aware that this had been deep beneath her feet the entire time. Then again, she had really only been in Paris for about three days, on the third stop along a two week high school chorus tour of Europe. Back then, her main goals were to ride to the top of the Eiffel Tower and visit the Palais Garnier- and both of those trips had had to be cut unfortunately short.

But now Claire was an independently wealthy woman, with disposable income to toss around on her week-long birthday present to herself. This time, she was going to do Paris right- she was going to visit every museum and church possible, drink fancy French wine, and scarf down as much delicate Parisian cuisine as possible. And part of that was delving into the caverns below the city to look at the bones of millions of long dead Parisians, grim as that may be.

The tour started off interesting enough, but after almost an hour of wandering through darkened tunnels covered in skeletons, the novelty began to wear off. The tunnels were damp and cold- and with no place before the tour to store her personal effects, Claire was struggling to carry her heavy bag and keep up with the rest of the group at the same time. Just as the group turned a corner and she shifted her bag up on her shoulder once more, she heard something drop and clatter to the ground below.

Turning on the spot in the darkness, Claire switched on her phone's light to survey the ground, unsure whether she had actually dropped something or simply knocked a rock out of place. As she scanned the ground, she realized with a nervous twinge that the voices of the tour guide and group were fading slightly into the distance. Cursing softly, she panned her light back and forth across the ground, looking for anything out of place.

There! The mysterious object turned out to be her hotel key, having no doubt slipped from her pocket as she awkwardly tried to juggle her phone and bag while navigating the tight corridors. She scooped it up quickly and rounded the corner to catch up with the group, realizing with a sinking feeling that the rest of the tourists had vanished into the dark.

Dashing down the corridor, Claire strained her ears to try and determine where the rest of her group had gotten to. Frankly, she was surprised that one of the tour guides hadn't yet noticed her absence and gone back to fetch her- they had both been very conscious of keeping everyone in line until now. Somehow, their attention must've been diverted just long enough to miss the fact that one of them was lagging behind. And now, as she jogged down the tunnel, Claire had no way to tell which of the many branching corridors they may have steered the group into. She could still hear voices echoing in the distance, but in the solid stone pathways it was impossible to pinpoint where they might be coming from.

Claire slowed to a stop as she realized she was beginning to hyperventilate- not that jogging was helping the situation much. To calm her frantically beating heart she closed her eyes and went over her options. One, she could stay where she was until the next group came through and meet up with them- if she hadn't already gone down a path beyond the normal tour. Two, she could try and retrace her steps back to the entrance, assuming she could remember the way. Or three, she could just actually die down here.

Claire shook her head hard, trying to rid herself of that particular thought. Settling herself to a cross legged position on the damp stone floor, she decided to wait a while to see if another group would come by. Pulling out her phone to pass the time, she grumbled as she realized that the signal down here, if it was getting through at all, was too weak to load anything.

However, this spurred another idea. Checking her map app, she was delighted to see that the GPS, while faint, was able to occasionally ping through. Her location sputtered in and out and flickered around, but it gave her a vague idea of where she might be in regards to the entrance. If nobody were to find her, she seemed only to need to head south a ways in order to get out.

An hour came and went, and while she heard the distant sounds of other tourists, no one passed by where she sat. At long last, she stood up with a sigh and started making her way back to where she thought the entrance might be, consoling herself with the knowledge that almost nobody actually died down here. They may be lost for a while, but most people were found very quickly, either by the authorities or by people illegally exploring. It wasn't how she envisioned her vacation going, but at least she wouldn't be trapped down here forever. Using the dim lights that lined the tunnels and the spotty GPS on her phone as a makeshift guide, Claire started to pick her way back to the entrance, stopping every once in a while to call out for help.

After some time, Claire came to an odd conundrum- she had reached a fork in the tunnels. One tunnel was brightly lit and clearly well travelled- but it curved around and reached back in the wrong direction. The other tunnel was only partially illuminated, but ran in a straight line south toward the apparent location of the exit. Of course, there was no telling if the GPS had been wrong this entire time- still though, Claire did recall one particularly dark tunnel on the trip down, and no tunnels that curved quite as sharply as the more brightly illuminated one.

She bounced back and forth on the balls of her feet, trying to make a choice. Finally, checking her phone one last time, she made the decision to head straight down the darkened tunnel, hoping desperately it would lead her straight back to the entrance, ignoring the nagging thought that she was about to walk blithely into her own horror movie.

The tunnel narrowed as she traversed it, and with every step Claire became more convinced that she was taking the wrong path. Surely they hadn't squeezed an entire tour group through such a tight space? But then, just as she was about to turn around and head back to the more well lit pathway, the tunnel opened up and a light appeared ahead of her, flickering around the boney walls. With a sigh of relief Claire dashed through the rest of the tunnel, ready to be free of the dark.

Claire's luck seemed to be turning back around, too, for as she slipped out of the dark tunnel she spotted a staircase leading up to the right just ahead of her. She almost shouted in delight as she raced to the stairs, eager to get back out of the catacombs, even if it meant a scolding from the tour guides for leaving the group.

As she ascended the staircase, she vaguely realized that the stairs out seemed different than the stairs in- newer, somehow. She was too excited to get back into the warm light of day, however, to give this much thought. It could be a different entrance, in any case- one that had been more recently built or renovated. She didn't even notice that the lights were dimmer, more flickery, than before.

With a final step she alighted back into the upper world- but something was wrong. Far from the warming light of day she had expected, the skies were pitch black, and the small building used to contain the entrance was completely closed up. Surely she hadn't spent an entire day stuck in the catacombs? And surely if she had, there would be a rescue effort looking for her? They had done a headcount at the beginning, would they not have realized by now that she was missing?

Trying not to feel too angry about being essentially abandoned in a cave, Claire strode grumpily toward the exit to the small building, letting herself out without concerning herself about any silent alarm she might be triggering. It didn't look like the front door was all that modern, anyway, locked with only an old fashioned bolt instead of any fancy security system.

Once outside, she was taken by how quiet the city seemed at night- and how much colder, too. She was suddenly thankful she hadn't had a place to leave her coat at the entrance, and even pulled a pair of gloves from her bag. It didn't feel like a warm summer day anymore- rather, it felt like mid fall or even a mild winter. She walked quickly through the city, back across the Seine, back toward the hotel- and only then did she realize something was wrong.

As she made her way across the darkened city, there were no cars, no other pedestrians to accompany her trek. The buildings looked mostly the same, but it seemed there were fewer structures than early in the day, and some buildings that simply hadn't existed at all. Checking her phone for directions was no help either, as the signal had cut out entirely at some point while trekking down the dark tunnel back to the surface, and had simply never come back- even the basic map wasn't loading now. Most of the streetlamps, too, had cut out, leaving the streets dark and eerie.

Claire shivered and pushed on, aware of what misfortunes may befall a single woman alone on the street after dark. The fact that no one seemed to be around didn't quell those fear, either- Paris had too many dark alleys to fully trust one's surroundings. Nevertheless, with her quickened pace Claire was able to make it back to her hotel in record time.

Except… There was no hotel. She looked around to be sure she was in the right place, and confirmed that the street name was correct. Yes, she was on Rue Volney, and the architecture was the same- but from what she could understand of the French signs in the door, she was looking at a bakery, not the lobby of a hotel. What had been hotel rooms earlier in the day seemed now to be private apartments.

Confused and exhausted, Claire stumbled back and leaned against a lamppost. She suddenly recalled a strange story from her childhood about a young girl who went travelling with her mother. At some point in the trip, the child had stepped out from their hotel to run an errand, only to find upon her return that the hotel had no record of her stay. At her insistence, they brought her to the room, only for her to find that the furnishings and decor had changed- and of course her mother was gone.

In the story, of course, the mother had suddenly fallen ill and died from the plague, and the entire erasure of the child's life was done to prevent word of the illness from getting out and prompting a mass panic and loss of revenue for the hotel. But here and now, Claire was alone. There was no reason to deceive her into believing that she had never been to this hotel- let alone to entirely redecorate it into a bakery.

Nor would it explain why everything else looked wrong, too.

The way Claire saw it there were only a few possibilities: the first, most likely scenario as she saw it was that she had lost her mind, was still in the tunnels and hallucinating, or was dreaming- or some combination thereof. Second, she had somehow slipped into an alternate dimension while navigating the catacombs. If As Above, So Below was anything to go off of, it wasn't outside the realm of imagination- though this was a rather silly thought in and of itself. The only other possibility was that she had somehow slipped through time, based upon her dawning realization that the few lit street lamps were in fact gaslights, and the pavement had been replaced with age-smoothed cobblestone.

Definitely going insane.

It didn't really matter in that moment, however. If her hotel had vanished into the ether, she would need to get inside, and quickly- with the sun down and the lights out, it was only getting colder and the streets were getting darker. If she had travelled back in time- she allowed herself the momentary entertainment of such a ridiculous thought- she needed to get her bag away from any potential prying fingers as well. The contents of her pockets alone could vastly alter the course of history.

She headed for the biggest, brightest beacon around- the Palais Garnier. Even if the main doors had been shut up for the night, there was bound to be a side entrance through which she could slip inside, and the place itself was big enough to hide a small army in the wings. She was sure she could find a nook to wedge herself into for the night, and hopefully wake from this nightmare in the morning.

She circled the giant, squat building carefully, checking each door until at last she found an entrance which had been left ajar by a caretaker of sorts who was busily snoring atop an overturned barrel, a still smoking cigarette clutched between his fingers. As quietly as she could manage, Claire squeezed herself through the opening, allowing herself to breathe again only when she and her precious cargo were safely inside. The door led straight into the lower reaches of the opera house, and Claire found herself quite able to move around freely without being spotted- she thanked her unwitting brilliance at having worn all black.

At last, drained and exhausted, she found a small secluded area behind a great deal of scaffolding, set pieces, and props which looked as though they had been left undisturbed for years. With a yawn, she arranged herself in the furthest corner (along with a stiff but not unusable pillow swiped from a stage bedroom set) and allowed herself to drift into an uneasy sleep away from prying eyes.

But as she curled onto her side and shut out the world, she failed to notice the one pair of eyes that had noticed her quiet but panicked flight into the safe confines of the opera house. In the shadows, two golden orbs belonging to a shadow themselves tracked her movements as she picked her way across the cellar of the opera. The shadow descended to the ground behind her, following her every step in the perfect silence of a practiced ghost, determined to figure out this mystery person. And as she fell into her fitful sleep, the golden eyes kept watch, waiting for the intruder to awaken again.