AN: This story came from an idea I had last Christmas break. Once I had a dream about it, I realized that I should probably write it down! And so, this story was born. A big thank you to Lady Rosesong for reading it and giving it the polishing touch! Also, big thank you's to my tow friends at school for reading it as well, for letting me bounce ideas, and general buggings that happen when you write a story.

I do not own anything Phantom of the Opera related, and yes, some elements are influenced by the movie 'Dead Again'. Some titles are influenced my songs and music (what in life isn't?), and the title is a song by Seal with the same title. Listen to it, it is amazing.

Kiss From A Rose

Entré Act

Paris, France, Present Day

"I'm late," was the only thing on Christine Daae's mind as she ran through the busy streets of Paris. She knew she had to be at the Opera House by eight a.m. sharp, and it was already ten to. She splashed through puddles as she tried to make her way through the pouring rain and driving wind. The streets of Paris were nearly deserted, giving them an eerie feeling. A few people were making their way through the rain, but most were huddled inside, away from the wind and the wet. Most likely sitting around a fire, sipping wine or hot chocolate with a loved one she thought, wishing that there were someone that she could do that with. Well, there was—no! I'm not going to think about him.

"I'm late" she said again, waiting for the traffic to clear so she could cross the Boulevard Saint Germain. She was only in the ballet corps, but she was very proud of her position, and the fact that she was taking private voice lessons on the side to one day try out for the lead part in the opera. The hard, beating rain had only slowed her slightly, and the wind only seemed to make her hurry.

"I'm late" she said again, impatiently brushing her curly, brown hair from her face. Most of it was nicely pulled back from her face in its style for Act 1 of Carmen, but the pins were trying to come out, and her hair was threatening to escape. She cut through an alley, trying to improve her time.

"I'm late" she said again, her mind running though the list of things she brought with her: costumes, shoes, extra lambs wool, extra ribbon and elastic, thread and needles, scissors, hair pins, make-up, water, snacks, her purse, and an extra change of clothes. Thank god she had the foresight to wear her warm-up clothes on the way there: ballet pink tights, black leotard, black sweater, black cloth pants, a blue, sheer skirt, slip-on shoes. She started to pick up her pace, as the rain started to pour down. Her vision blurred as the wind and rain made is nearly impossible to see. She started to run. Just five more blocks, she thought to herself. I can make it. She clutched her bags to her, holding her umbrella high. The wind nearly tossed her aside, before she saw the Opera House. A smile lit up her face; she was only one block away.

"Made it", she said, and took off.

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He was sitting in a small café, almost across the street from the Opera House, called Le Peiné Agile. Sipping the small cup of strong, black coffee, he noticed a little girl looking at him. He smiled, and she smiled back. "Hello, what's your name?"

"Michelle."

"Michelle, that is a lovely name."

"Thank you." She paused, and then asked, "What happened to your face?"

He paused, raising his hand to feel the scars that ran all along the right side of his face. "I was in an accident a few years ago, but I'm all better now."

"Honey, we have to go now. Say goodbye to the nice man." The girls' mother came over, and took her hand.

"Bye."

"Goodbye." He watched as she left, feeling unsure about the question the girl had asked him. Although the accident had happened over five years ago, his face had stopped healing, and left him with a scar that ran around his right eye and cut across his right cheek, a few lines cutting into the area away from his temple. He hated the fact that he had a daily reminder of what happened so long ago, the accident that left him injured and Claire dead.

Pushing unhappy and unwanted thoughts out of his mind, he continued to drink his coffee, when he saw her running towards the Opera House, brown hair in a riot of curls flying out behind her. He watched her pause only for a second before she was off again. He smiled to himself, at the relief he saw in her face as she looked at the ancient building. Then he saw the car, speeding through the rain. He looked back at her, at the car, and then took off running towards her, his chair toppling over in his haste, immediately drenched to the bone. "Stop!" he called out to her, but she could not have heard him over the screech of brakes and squeal of tires.

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She was so close, it was right there. She knew that she would make it. Out of the corner of her eye she saw something coming her way. She heard someone yell "Stop!" The next thing she knew, she was in pain.

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He ran over to her, praying that she was still alright. She was lying on the pavement, her legs unnaturally twisted beneath her. Her skirt was torn, so were her pants, and the tights beneath them, showing deep red cuts beginning to ooze. Her sweater was twisted, but her arms looked alright. Her hair had completely come out of its' pins, and made a soft brown halo around her face. In the puddle she was laying in, he could see red quickly replacing the clear liquid. He knelt down beside her, and gently cupped the side of her head, but removed his hand when is quickly became covered with hot, sticky blood. "Mademoiselle!" he said, taking her pulse. "MADEMOISELLE!" he said again, louder. Her eyes fluttered open. "Oh, thank God. Mademoiselle, can you tell me your name?" he asked. "Christine" she murmured, her eyes closing again. "Stay with me Christine. My name is Erik. I'm going to help you. Stay with me…"

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Pain. She felt so much pain, all over. She couldn't move, or talk, or blink. Someone was talking to her, holding her hand. She opened her eyes, and saw a man. A man with blue-gray eyes wanted to know her name. "Christine" she murmured, the felt her eyes close, and she slipped into unconsciousness.

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He looked around, but the dark of the day made the buildings look harsh and unfeeling. He took her hand, holding it tight, took out his cell phone with the other, and called an ambulance. "Stay with me Christine" he said. "Don't leave me…"