Disclaimer: This is going to act as the disclaimer for the entire story. I do not own phantom of the opera. The only things that are owned by I are my made up characters, and the plot line.

(A/N: This is my first true fanfic, so please R&R truthfully! I'll send Erik to punjab you if you don't. mwahaha. If you see anything wrong, incorrect, unfitting, or otherwise, please comment on it! That's the only way I can get better.

Most phics that take up a new female lead are all the same, but this one will most definitely be very different. No one knows where this is going, not even I. I swear I'm flying by the seat of my pants loves, and I appreciate input.)

(:EDIT: July 31, 2005: I've added to some of the earlier chapters. I was reading other phics and was inspired, so now my chapters have been added to and such.)

Chances of Delusions

Chapter one: Bleak Outlooks

Steam clouded the mirrors, a bitter chill seeping through the poorly sealed windowpanes. It mingled with the heat from the drawn bathwater, waltzing in the air and washing over a young robed ballerina. She was clothed in nothing but a plain red robe, her figure hidden beneath folds of fabric. Stepping lightly on dancer's feet, she opened the door gingerly.

"Thank you so much for letting me use your bathing room Jennet, Madame Giry is being devilish with all the extra practice. My feet are more sore than they have ever been."

Her soft silky voice called from within the steamy chamber, the host's head protruding from the cracked door. Soft sea green irises contracted as she stared out into the harsh light of Jennet's bedchamber, searching the room for the older woman's presence. Curls of voluminous strawberry blonde hair were piled on her skull, tied up with various ribbons and pins. Anika was a very calm person, and her light and airy voice reflected that. Her simple features were a thing of beauty, a soft jaw line tracing her profile crisply. Anika's nose was small and prim, almost pixy-like in appearance.

"Oh Anika, anytime darling. We both know she is merely trying to get us practiced enough to perform on time, albeit, four extra hours is a bit extreme. Enjoy your time in the bath dear, I think we both know you haven't had a good soak in ages."

Jennet answered, her voice rougher but with a twinge of goodhearted merriment. She stepped into Anika's view, and the younger girl smiled through the cracked door. Taking in Jennet's familiar form she almost basked at the fact it was known to her. The girl was not used to having someone to look to in hard times -due to a rather rough upbringing. Jennet was thin and muscular, and her corsets transformed her into a stunning creature of a woman. She had a dark complexion, and straight waist-length hair. Her dark chestnut locks were often unbound, and it suited her free-spirited attitude towards things in general. Jennet did not look to a man, at least not yet. She thought herself too young for such complications of marriage and child rearing; she was at her physical peak! Being almost thirty years of age, many people disagreed, but she turned her noses up at them. Who knew her better than herself? Anika was quite used to such attitude, and she loved everything about Jennet. She was the mother Anika never had.

"Can you tell already? Do I smell that horrible?"

The younger woman asked with raised eyebrows, sometimes unable to distinguish when Jennet was joking. Pausing to hope she didn't actually reek, the blonde-headed lass sighed happily as Jennet assured her that her comment was merely a joke.

Anika drew back into the room, quietly closing the door behind her. Turning around and inhaling deeply, she smiled to herself. Warm bathwater would calm her nerves and ease her sore feet. Walking over to the deep basin and hanging her robe on the hook, Anika slowly eased herself into the steaming water. It was a welcome sensation, and immediately her bruised feet went numb. Laying back her head on the porcelain tub, the woman was grateful Jennet had such high standing within the opera house. She was an expert ballerina, and had quite a lovely bathroom. More than once Anika had taken it as refuge in hard times, and now qualified as quite the hard time.

It was a few mere years after the great 'disaster', and it was no lie to say the opera house had changed hands relatively quickly after the infamous opera ghost set it aflame. The new manager was a steady fellow by the name of Monsieur Jezime, tall and muscular to boot. Jennet had actually swooned over him and his thick head of 'luscious black hair' (her words of coarse) but stopped after she was informed that he was married. And had children. She had received this bit of warning from a very flustered Madame Giry, angered that Jennet was not giving her all in her practices.

Back to more important matters. Jezime had wasted no time returning theinfamous Paris Opera House into a thing of great beauty once more. Almost all of the stagehands, dancers, and singers had retired from the business after the disaster, and he had the task of finding an entirely new crew in a very short time.

To say the least, he had a tough job. Thankfully, Madame Giry had stayed with her daughter Meg. The jittery conductor had offered to keep up work, but after a few weeks it was evident he would not be able to. Every time a loud noise echoed into his orchestra pit, he would have quite an emotional fit. Monsieur Jezime kindly offered him a permanent vacation, which he reluctantly took. Not surprisingly, the Vicomte De Chagny quickly sped away with Miss Daae, his family giving up their patronage. Carlotta left in a flurry of mangled French and Spanish, enraged by the fact no one had caught the opera ghost responsible for the death of her Piangi.

Now, with only a mediocre star by the name of Lenora Caruso, Monsieur Jezime needed to act quickly if he hoped audiences would still come and attend his operas. The future looked bleak, but Anika was being paid relatively well, and she was satisfied with the career of a dancer. If nothing else kept her on, the great privileges of being Jennet's false daughter would keep her in vicinity of the theater.

Slipping down into the tub until she was completely submerged, Anika opened her eyes and watched the water play above her. Her breath bubbled and leaked from her lips, surfacing quickly. Coming up for air if not quicker, the young woman tucked a strand of stray hair behind her ear. As of yet, the opera ghost had not made another appearance. Many thought him dead, but Anika knew better. At least, she wished better. Now the sort of opera he wrote was more popular and she feared for her future if he did not contribute some of his genius works.

Only time would tell…

(Chapter Fin.

So.. how'd you like? Review please.)