DISCLAIMER: I'm only going to say this once; it applies to ALL the following chapters! This story is a work of FAN fiction! I do not claim ownership over any setting, lyrics, or characters in this story, save Jacqueline Devoreaux who is my own creation. Neither she nor this story can be ascribed to the original canon.

A lone bird abruptly ceased its melancholy song from the bare branches of the tree as I passed beneath; the frozen ground and dead leaves crunched beneath my feet. I crossed the otherwise silent plot of land and all but collapsed onto my knees in front of my grandfather's tombstone. For a long moment I remained quiet, doing nothing except staring at the cold gray stone.

"It's me again, Grand-père," I whispered. "Not much has changed since a few nights ago…" I shifted and I felt the weight of my cloak pressing against the newly acquired laceration that crossed my back. I grimaced then did my best to ignore it. No need to worry my grandfather's spirit with that.

"I still miss you," I continued. "I still wish… I wish you were here again. I feel so… just so lonely without you."

I squeezed my eyes shut tight, as if that would block the melody that had suddenly popped into my head. Even though I tried to stop the music, it somehow always found its way back into my mind. Now it was there… It would not leave easily. I didn't want it there. A tune in my head was certain to come out on my tongue. And a song on my tongue was dangerous.

Unless I let it out now.

Set it free from my mind, to my tongue, flying into the silent world around me. A world where no one saw me, no one touched me, and no one heard me; a refuge; a safe haven of solitude.

Slowly, I opened my eyes. Safe haven. Safe.

I could not take the song home with me. It would be dangerous. But here, in the cemetery, I decided I was safe and softly I began to sing:

No one would listen
No one but you
Heard as the one who cares

Shamed into solitude
Beat into servitude
I learned "Keep silent"
So afraid to hear the music

I long to sing my song
Not feel I'm doing wrong
He would not listen
I alone suffered in darkness

Then at last a voice in the gloom
Seemed to cry 'I hear you
I hear your fears
Your torment and your tears'

You saw his wickedness
Shared in my helplessness
No one would listen
No one but you
Heard as the one who cares

No one would listen
No one but you
Heard as the one who cares

The last line barely made it past my lips before my throat clamped shut. I could feel tears building up, but I held them back. I am not sure why I did. Perhaps I was tired of crying.

"You have a lovely voice," a stranger's voice called out. A few graves over stood a woman dressed in black. It was hard to determine her age, but I felt she must have been about the same age as my mother would have been.

"Thank you," I managed to choke out. "I am glad someone was able to hear it and appreciate it, for it is likely that it is the last I shall ever sing," I replied bitterly.

"Why is that?" she asked in a tone that said she was not one to tolerate self-pity; yet her tone was not unfriendly.

I let out a heavy sigh. "Soon I will be married to a man who cannot abide singing," I explained.

Tears welled up in my eyes then. I didn't want to cry in front of this woman, but no amount of willpower was able to stop the outward display of my inner turmoil. Had my senses not been so well trained to what was around me, I might not have even noticed the woman coming toward me. But I did notice and I was instantly nervous, though I knew I had no reason to be.

My tears doubled as I realized that the one responsible for my pain had not only ruined my trust in him but in everyone else as well. My life was completely ruined if I could trust no one. Even this kind stranger who had wrapped her arm comfortingly around my shoulders.

She held me in that strong and gentle grip until my uncontrollable crying lessened to a manageable sniffle. She waited a moment longer before speaking.

"A voice like that should be heard," she said. "Hiding it would be a shame. A shame, mademoiselle." She gave my shoulders a little shake to emphasize her point. "But with some training it could be a fantastic voice."

I shook my head sadly. "He would never allow it. Not even if it made me the richest, most famous singer in all the world."

I could sense her displeasure in my answer, although she seemed to ignore it, for the next thing she said was, "I know someone who could train you. He would require no payment."

Again, I shook my head. "I'm sorry, Madame. It is not possible."

She bowed her head in reluctant acceptance and rose to her feet.

"If you should change your mind," she said, "you will find me at the opera house."

Opera house? That certainly got my attention. I looked up at her, blinking out the last of my tears.

"Opera Populaire," she said, with a knowing look.

My thoughts were suddenly frantic and a little confused. Was this woman actually suggesting that I would be trained by someone from the Opera Populaire?! For free? Madness. I did not believe it. It had to be a trick of some sort. Perhaps he had hired her. To test me. I narrowed my eyes at her, but I found no words to say. If he had not sent her, then I did not want to accuse her unjustly.

With a slight smile she turned and walked away, swinging her cane.

The bird tentatively began singing again.

I felt that my sanity was being tested. I stared at my grandfather's tombstone without really seeing it, running over the strange conversation again in my head. It was just as confusing the second time around. After a time, I shook my head to clear it and stood. My knees were sore from kneeling for so long so I bent over to rub them. Standing erect once more, I pulled my cloak tight around me. Taking that first step was the second hardest step (the first hardest being dragging my reluctant feet up the steps to the front door of the house). One would think I had a choice in the matter. But one would be wrong.

There was no other way. This path was my destiny. It wasn't my choice - not exactly - Destiny didn't offer honest choices. Oh, there always seem to be paths to choose from. . . but destiny is always the path you choose. And you were destined to take that path long before you were born. Even if you choose the wrong path, it was your destiny to do so. Not everyone was destined to be blessed with a life of good fortune.

And so with each step I took I felt closer to destiny's wrong path. It wasn't the path I wanted to take, heavens no! But it was the one I had already started down and I couldn't see a way to bow out gracefully; or tell Destiny it made a mistake.

Thankfully, Destiny decided, I did not need to.

I was in trouble.

So I ran. I tried to run away, but there is no running away from memories. I kept seeing the pewter candlestick sailing toward his face, him falling to his knees -silently. At first, I thought I may have killed him. But I didn't wait to find out. Almost as soon as his knees hit the floor, I ran.

I had not intended to run out the front door, but that was where my feet carried me; not even stopping to grab my cloak.

In my adrenaline rush, my feet carried me away faster than my mind was working. I did not even know where I was going, only that I was headed away from him and that I could not let him catch me. If he was still alive.

When I eventually stopped running, I found myself at Rue du Faubourg Poissoniere. I stared down that road as my thoughts and my breath caught up to my body. As I thought about what lay in the direction I was looking, the opera house crossed my mind. The memory of the mysterious woman in the graveyard returned to me. Before I could wonder any more on the subject, I collapsed.

I gave a little yelp as my legs gave way beneath me and I landed on the hard sidewalk. Both legs shook uncontrollably as the adrenaline that once coursed through my body to help me run, betrayed me now. Wrapping my quivering arms around my tremulous legs, I managed to scoot back to lean against a lamp post while I calmed myself.

It's hard to say how long I sat there. It felt like forever, but I stayed until my body stopped its quaking.

With my body recovered from my terror-filled flight and once again under my control, I rose purposefully to my feet.

In the time spent under the orange glow of the lamplight, I had made a decision. Decided that maybe destiny was not as strict as I once imagined. I had chosen the wrong path. Now it seemed Destiny wanted me to take the right path and had very forcefully kicked me in that direction. This time I would accept it. I would go to the opera house and find the woman in black. It had been months since our meeting in the cemetery, but I felt confident her offer still stood.

I would join them. Learn to sing. Perhaps learn to dance. Maybe I would disappear; disappear from those who would be looking for me and remain hidden from them until they had forgotten about me and it was safe for me to show myself again. If such a time would ever come.