Hearing is Believing

A/N: I'm actually working on two "Phantom" stories right now, this being the second, but I just had this thought and couldn't erase it.

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the OC I made up, the rest belongs to Mr. Webber and Gaston Leroux.

Summary: Aliina Genson is a 17 year old girl working as a seamstress for the Newly refurbished and rebuilt Opera Populaire two years after the fire and the Phantom.

Chapter 1. Shattered Glass

"Sheet!" I hissed, quickly popping the tip of my index finger into my mouth, gently lapping the dot of blood off that, undoubtably had formed there after I'd pricked myself for the fifth time this afternoon. "Aliina? Are you alright?" My dear friend Gabriella called towards me. I nodded in her direction, "Yes Gabby, all is well and good. Just, pricked my finger again." Gabriella sighed, "I don't know how you manage to stitch all that beautiful bead work and design those intracit patterns with your needle and thread." I heard her move out of her desk and walk towards me, sitting with my back against the wall and legs folded beneith me.

"I just can, it's a gift I suppose. Perhaps my mother was a seamstress and I've inherited her gift!" I sang towards her. Gabriella laughed and patted my shoulder, "It truly is lovely, Aliina, I wish you could see how gorgeous your work is." She slid down the wall to sit beside me.

I smiled softly, "I can see it, Gabby. Just, with my hands."

I finished tying off the thread I'd been using to finish the flurry of beads on the bodice of the gown I'd just finished for my Mistress, Madam Constantina, she was the head soprano of the Opera Populaire, replacing the old Coletta, but no one really missed her anyway.

"I know you can, but, I just...oh you know what I mean." she sighed finally. I smiled at her, "I do, I really do." I felt her fingers cup my left cheek, pinch it lightly then I heard her stand and walk away from me.

"ALIINA!" A shrill voice shrieked up the stairs and into the work room I was presently in. I knew at the way my name wavered as she called it, it was Madam Constantina. "Coming Mistress!" I called down. I used the wall to stand, and gently hung the dress over my arms. Then, gropped the bench next to my right knee for my walking stick.

Once my fingers ran over cold, glossy wood, I clutched it and held it slightly infront of me, and found my way to the staircase that led down into backstage behind the large curtain they'd told me was a deep red velvet. My right hand held the railing of the staircase, with the dress drapped over my left forearm and left hand holding the stick up out of my feets way. "Zere you are!" Madam Constantina called once I'd reached the bottom step and now stood at the end of the stairs. I tilted my head slightly to the side and listened for her breathing, once I'd located her I walked towards her, smiling.

"Oh! Vhat iz dis?" She asked once I'd reached her. I held the dress out, holding it by the shoulders to show her the full gown with its hand-beaded bodice. "Oh! My little kint, it iz perfect! How do you make zem so beau-tiful?" she asked me, wrapping her thin arms around my shoulders and hugging me tightly, the dress pressed between us. I hugged her back gently, then pulled away.

"Well, I ask for a colour of bead, and they hand me a box full! It was very fun to decorate Madam, I hope you like it." I dipped my head in respect. Madam Constantina grasped my chin, her long nails slightly scraping the skin there, and tilted my head up, her eyes most likely searching my face.

"Darling, how can you possibly make such love-ly vork, vithout your eyes?" She asked softly. I sighed, she'd asked this before. "I've explained before Madam, I use my hands and my fingers. It's not terribly hard, actually. Once I'd had enough practice, I could stitch and knit and crochet anything!" I said, smiling, hopefully erasing the pittiful look she no doubt was presenting me. "Vell, zey are very love-ly, I am very, very lucky to 'ave you az my personal seamstress." She patted me atop the head, then I heard her turn away and heard the clicking of her shoes against the hard wood that the very stage was made of. Once she was a safe distance away, I let out a breath. It was very exhausting being blind.

Yes, blind I was, but proud of my work I was also, so I was very happy Madam Constantina liked her gown she would be using for Pagliacci as the role Nedda. It was a very conflicted role, so I'd tried to make her gown as seductive as I could possibly make yards of silk and lace look. I turned from the front of the stage and slowly made my way towards the staircase, so I could finish Nedda's night gown for Act 2, when I heard something fall and shatter against the ground.

Loosing a sense, sharpens the other four quiet incrediously, so hearing, touch, taste and smell for me were all very strong. I could hear and smell things from miles away, but this didn't sound far, infact, it sounded as if it came from beneath me. Miles under the stage perhaps. A cold chill swept through the Opera house, raising the fair hair on my arms and causing the my flesh to quiver. It sounded like, glass. Shattering onto hard floor or against a hard wall.

'Odd, what could possibly have fallen and created such a noise from so far below us?' I brushed the thought behind me and chalked the noise up to rats in the cellars below.

Making my way up the stairs, my walking stick suddenly hit something infront of me. "Oh! Beg your pardon Ma'am!" A deep voice said towards me, hands wrapping around my shoulders to steady me. I stiffined at this man's touch. "Are you alright? My damn feet can't seem to understand how to walk down a simple set of stairs today, I apologize greatly for bumping into you." He said, removing his hands. I swollowed down the scream that had clawed its way up my throat, and put on my best apologetic smile. "No sir, it's quiet alright. I really should watch where I'm going." I flinched slightly as the words passed my lips, knowing he would too, flinch at them. I didn't mean to turn myself into the unpleasant and uncomfortable blind girl, but it was a curse.

He cleared his throat, obviously uncomfortable, and touched the top of my hand, the one clutching the rounded section of my stick. He was wearing cotton gloves, most likely white. "Really, it was entirely my fault. I do hope you can forgive me, for being unconsious of my surroundings." I sqweezed the stick harder, my hand growing hot under his gloved finger tips.

"Well, I thank you for your kindness, though now I fear I am the one who must be rude. I really must get back to work, sir." I said, stepping to the left, so he could pass me easily. His finger tips didn't leave the back of my hand. "Can you make it up the stairs alone, Ma'am?" he asked. My veins ran hot with angry blood. I wrenched my hand away, gathered up my skirst and narrowed my eyes, hopefully into his general direction. "I can make it just fine on my own, good day to you sir. "I said, pushing up the stairs, my head held high, and heard a chuckle pass his lips.

"Strange girl." he muttered under his breath. But I'd heard it.

Strange? He thought me strange?

Well, I think he's strange, and I don't even have the foundest idea who he might be! What a rude man!

I entered the door of the sewing room, to hear almost nothing but silence, aside from the small bursts of gasping coming from the other girls in the work room. A hand suddenly grasped mine and pulled me forward, "Quickly Aliina! Come and sit with me! One of the stage hands is telling horror stories!" Gabriella whispered into my ear. My hand was slightly shaky in hers, but I was quiet used to her touch. I was then pushed down onto the bench against my desk with Gabriella's thigh touching mine, and another girl on my left. "It's Lilliana," She whispered to me, out of kindness. I nodded at her with a small smile on my lips.

"Some used to say, he wasn't even a full man. Eyes, dark as the devil's and heart just as black," A rough voice was speaking to us. I didn't feel at all comfortable with his presence, "His hands, they used to say, calloused from hours of tying nouses for his next victim, his blood lust unentertainable." He was walking slowly towards us, his heavy boots clunking loudly on the hardwooden floors. I felt Gabriella's fingers lace with mine and hold my right hand tightly. I could hear her breathing start to spead up.

"But, there was one thing, only one thing they used to say, that kept him human." He whispered, very close now. I could smell the rotten stentch of whisky on his breath and in his clothes. "It was her. The girl he obsessed over. She was his muse, his only reason to write music." He husked out. I felt my stomach clentch, I'd never delt with Gothic Horror very well. Some nights, back in the rooms in which we'd slept, Gabriella would read poems from Edgar Allen Poe, and read them in different voices with her Latin accent, it was absolutaly petrifiying. I swollowed the fear down, and closed my eyes.

"He watched her every move, calculated every breath she took, noted every time she blinked. He was absolutaly mad over her." The man continued, and I could hear him searching for something in his pockets. When I heard the harsh sound of metal scraping dirty metal, I knew he'd pulled out a blade. Gasps came from the girls, "Some even said, he'd use his very own blood in the notes and letters he wrote to her. Always signing it, 'Your Angel of Music.'" I shivered, and heard some girls start to whisper.

"But don't fret ladies, he died two long years ago, and he took his acursed music with him, buring down half the Opera House and dropping the chandler on innocent people, killing hundreds." He was now speaking in my face, my eyes still closed. His breath was wretched, I had to choke down the bile that threatened to escape. "Some even say, he'd eat the people he killed."

I turned my face from his, and felt Gabriella pat my knee. "So next time you feel a breeze and can't find the open window that caused it, or hear something you can't explaine...it's him. Still lurking around the Opera House, searching for his next...victim. For his next...CHRISTINE!" He shouted the last word, causing all of us to scream and jump.

Laughter shortly followed, then suddenly all was silent. My eyes were still held tightly shut, my head still turned away from him.

Then suddenly, the same shattering noise echoed into my ears, but it sounded closer. I leaned into Gabriella and whispered, "Did you hear glass break just now?" I asked, she signed the word 'No' into my hand. I sat back and swollowed.

"What is the meaning of this?" A woman's voice boomed. "How dare you speak to them of such gore." The woman said again, her voice followed by a sharp smack onto the floor. I then understood who it was.

Meg Giry, but to anyone who crossed her, Madam Giry. She had replaced her mother in the spring of this last year as the new ballet instructor. She was very strick, much like I'd heard her mother was. Madam Giry had fair blond hair that was always swept up into a tight bun at the back of her head, she wore nothing but black and black and used her mothers old cane as a timing stick. I'd asked Gabriella to describe her to me once, so I could fit an image to the voice.

"Aw come now Giry, it's all fun and games." The man said, laughing gently. I heard her boots walk towards him, then heard a slap break the silence. "Do not speak of the Phantom as if he cannot hear you." she hissed. The man uttered a curse and I heard him exit the room. "We must respect his memory. He was a great man, terrible yes, but great." She turned and left the room, leaving all of us, aside from me, utterly stunned.

I, on the other hand, was completely intriuged.

"Phantom? Whose the Phantom?" I asked Gabriella once Madam Giry had left. Gabriella sucked in a breath, "You've never heard of him?" she asked. I shook my head, "I didn't understand that the stange hand was telling the story of him, but by the words he spoke I assume the Phantom must have been a monster." I said, slightly heavy-hearted. I wished to know of his story.

"He was a real man, he was deformed and wore half a mask on his face, to cover the deformity. He wrote music and loved a woman named Christine Daee, but she didn't love him back. She chose someone else, but I mean, you can't really blame her. She was driven into the arms of another man by a man who didn't know how to treat a lady." Gabriella sighed, "But, he does sound romantic, doesn't he? It was said he left Christine a red rose tied with a black ribbon after each of her performances." She sighed and finally released my hand. "Come now Aliina, our shifts over."

I stood slowly, my head racing with new information. I'd never heard of an Opera Ghost before, no one had ever told me. Well then, I suppose I'd never asked. "Where is he now?" I asked as we desended the staircase towards our rooms. "He died. Or didn't, they aren't sure. All they found was his mask upon a chair, in a lair decorated with smashed mirrors." Gabriella's voice suddenly got very quiet. "It was only two years ago, when Madam Meg Giry found his mask." I gasped, "It was Madam Giry?" I asked, my eyebrows knitting together.

"Yes, she was the adoptive sister to Christine, aparently her father died when she was quiet young, so she lived with Madam Giry and Meg then married Roul and now lives in America far away from all of this." Gabriella said, finishing just as we reached our rooms. "How do you know so much about this?" I asked. I didn't hear her say anything, but I heard her neck pop as she shrugged. "I'm a good eavsdropper." I heard her smile.

We walked into our rooms, where I changed, kneeled towards God then slipped beneath the white linen they'd provided, along with a thick wool blanket for winter and a very flat pillow. A bed's a bed I suppose.

"Good night Aliina," Gabriella yawned towards me. I repeated the salutaion to her, then rolled over onto my right side, eyes wide open in the dark. I wanted to know more about his Phantom character, he sounds so deep and mysterious.

Sleep was tugging at my eyes, and I almost drifted off when something filled the air.

"Masquerade, paper faces on parade, masquerade. Hide your face so the world will never find you..."

It was acompanied by a soft violin prelude and what sounded like small cymbol crashes. The violin wasn't what had me out of bed and walking down the hallway towards the stage, it was the voice.

Oh the voice was so raw and thick I couldn't think. It was smooth, it was rough. I had to find where it was coming from. My body shivered beneath the thin chemise I wore. Folding my arms, I walked with my feet out farther than the rest of me, until my toes brushed the lights that lined the stage lips. I knew that five feet below where I stood was the orchestra pit, and above that the seating of the Opera House. I kneeled and strained my ears to catch, just one more phrase of that voice that wrattled my bones.

"You alone can make my song, take flight..."

There it was! I knew I wasn't daft! I'd really heard a man's voice echo through the air! I leaned down towards the orchestra pit, but only heard the soft blowing of the breeze. Frowning, I sat back, then I'm not quiet sure what possesed me to do this, but I cleared my throat and sang softly back to the voice, begging for more of it's supple sound.

"Angel I hear you, speak I listen..."

I hadn't ever sung about angels before, and can't quiet put a finger on the reason I'd sung those words, but I knew that part of me was now craving the sound of his voice, whether this was a dream or real, I'm not sure I could tell. I closed my eyes and listened hard.

"Aliina?" Someone called towards me, shattering the silenec. I turned to face the intruder of my dream, and realized how I must look. Half nude, leaning towards the orchestra pit, eyes closed and singning into the dark and empty air.

"Aliina, why are you out here? I awoke for some water and looked over at your empty bed and became very worried." Gabriella whispered once she'd reached me. With her hands on my back, I slowly stood and swollowed quickly. "I'm sorry for worrying you, I must have wandered out here in a daze, I can barley remember why I'm out here." I lied smoothly, I couldn't tell her about the voice until I had proof.

Gabriella sighed and grabbed my hands, leading me back into our rooms. Part of me wanted to wrench away from her hands, and sit beside the orchestra pit until another sound could be heard, but a small voice in my head whispered, "You might be scared from the story the stage hand had told earlier. You said it yourself, you don't handle Gothic Horror very well."

I felt my face drop, perhaps I was really dreaming.

Then I heard it, a single word drift across the cold air.

"Aliina..."

And with a cold and settling feeling in the very pit of my stomach, erasing any doubt from my mind, I knew it could't be a dream, no, that would be too easy.