A/N: The only source I have for this story is the new Phantom movie so this story isn't going to follow the book or play or whatnot, just a small warning.

Disclaimer: I don't own Phantom of the Opera

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An eight-year-old girl with slightly wavy dark hair and large blue-green eyes stared at the darkness outside her living room window. She jumped at the ear-splitting eruption from the sky, and blinked at the rapid flashes of light. The rain was barely visible in the night and the glowing moon was hidden behind the black clouds.

The little girl fidgeted somewhat on her soft chair. Her small hands absent-mindedly caressed the tiny baby outfit. The child had found it hidden in a drawer while she was looking for something to play with on the rainy day. It was a curious little outfit because it was for a boy and she was an only child … right?

"Aimee, Aimee darling I'm back," said a warm feminine voice.

"Auntie Eleonore!" the girl smiled and ran from the living room to the front door.

Aimee's aunt smiled as well and then picked the child up and spun her around once. She had not been gone long – only a half an hour to visit their sick neighbor – but she knew that was long enough for an eight-year-old on a rainy day. Suddenly her aunt noticed something in the girl's hand. Eleonore set her niece down and took the miniature clothing from her. Immediately her face fell.

"Auntie Eleonore, I found this in one of your drawers what is it? It looks like it's for a baby boy," she said innocently.

"That's because it was," the woman said solemnly.

"But, I'm an only child, was it your baby Auntie Eleonore?" Aimee asked inquiringly.

"Come, love, I think you're old enough to understand now."

Eleonore then took Aimee's hand and led her back into the living room. She sat down with the child on her lap. Aimee looked up at her aunt with curiosity and concern.

"Five years before you were born," she began staring intently at the baby's clothes, "your mother was unfortunately, well, forced to have a child by a man she never knew and didn't like." Eleonore felt that it was better to say this to the eight-year-old then to say her mother was raped, "When the baby was born it was a boy, but he was … deformed," little Aimee gasped sadly, "one side of his face was infected and … and red."

"What did mama do?"

"I told her to keep him and try to love him, but she wouldn't hear of it. She didn't want the child in the first place and his facial flaw made her want him even less. So, eventually, she gave the boy to the gypsies."

Tears streamed down Eleonore's face and little Aimee started to sniffle.

"How could mama have done something like that Auntie? I might have had a big brother to play with!" she sobbed and her aunt rocked her gently.

This poor little girl, thought Eleonore, her mother died two days after giving her life, her father left Aimee on her and her husband's doorstep never to be seen again. And now she had to hear the terrible truth about her brother. Eleonore knew she was going to have to tell the girl sooner or later, but she didn't realize how hard it would be for both of them.

Eventually, little Aimee fell asleep, Eleonore sighed and carefully lifted her up and laid her on her bed. Then Eleonore took the baby boy outfit and hid it away once more.

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