Chapter One

Arrival in Paris

Disclaimer: I don't own phantom, and I'm just saying this now: there WILL be bits of Sweeney Todd, mostly because I lurve that movie so good.

"Anthony, son." Anthony Richard Faith looked upwards towards his father, a burly man with thick brown facial hair and the scent of the sea. That would make a lot of since, considering that he and his father were both sailors. "You see Madam Parker down there?" Anthony looked over the railing by the helm and focused his eyes on the black-dressed woman with brownish red tussled hair on her head and a thin black shawl around her shoulders.

"Yes," Anthony replied, watching Olive quietly. She was older than him by at least eighteen years, but she was still younger than his father; whose hair was starting to gray at the roots, and whose face was starting to get that old, withered look.

"When we get to France to drop Madam Parker off, I want you to get off with her." Anthony felt his heart sink and smack against his diaphragm, his face drained of what little color it had, and his blondish brown hair fell limp in his face. His father wanted him to...stay? Before Anthony could question his father's judgment, he began explaining. "This voyage is too dangerous for you Anthony,"

"But--!" He began to protest, but his father wouldn't hear any of it. That was the thing about Anthony's father; he knew what was best for his son, no matter how distasteful it was to Anthony himself.

"You are my only son Anthony, I don't want you to get hurt out at sea, I want you to stay in France." Anthony felt terrible, she wanted to go with his father, he wanted to sail around the world and see it's wonders, but his father would have none of that. Not yet for Anthony anyway, not until he was older, stronger, and wiser. Anthony nodded in defeat.

"Yes sir," he replied sadly. His father smacked his back proudly, accidentally making Anthony lose his balance for a minute or two. After his father left to check on something on the ship, Anthony wandered down to Olive Parker and stood beside her, watching her tussled reddish brownish hair brush to the side due to the soft breeze through the fog. Anthony, if he moved close enough, could see the city coming into view at last. "Madam Parker, isn't the city beautiful?" Olive snarled at the direction of the city, and closed her eyes a moment.

"It was," She replied. "Now it's not so much." Anthony looked between Olive and the city solemnly for a moment, he wanted to stay on the ship and sail around the world; but he supposed it was no choice of his. His father was the one who made the decision to leave him behind, and his father never changed his mind once it was made up.

Quietly, Anthony left the deck to go below to pack his things, leaving Olive standing on deck, starring at the city coming ahead. She closed her eyes a moment, taking in the French scents, and the French sounds. She rubbed her fish netted fingerless gloved palm against her chin, scratching at itch she had on her face. She opened her eyes and immediately got a wicked smell of the wharf of the city, where the ship was to take port. It smelled of gutted fish and unhygienic fishermen. Neither of which pleased her sense of smell, she found fish atrocious and unhygienic men to be just as revolting, if not a trifle more. If those men had wives, she pitied them for having to stand both smells at the same time while trying to live a humble life. If Olive ever found Benjamin, she would tell him never to work at a wharf or be unhygienic.

Then again, if things got bad enough; she wouldn't ask it of him. Benjamin would do anything for Olive and Johanna; even if it meant taking a dead-end job surrounded by nasty, sweaty, fishy men who smelled like the catch of the day all year round. But Olive doubted that would happen; Benjamin was a well-respected lawyer who kept his wife and child in fine clothes and smelling wonderfully. Even though Olive was anything but pretty as a picture.

She pulled her shawl closer to her skin as she gazed upon the misty city as it came closer; and the closer they got, the more nervous she became about finally seeing Benjamin and her beloved Johanna again. Would they still be the same people they were when she left? What had Johanna grown up to be like? Did she have dark hair like her father? She sure hoped so, that was what she had imagined Johanna to be like while she slaved away in the Prison Isles off the coast of Australia. She dreamt of her little Johanna with dark hair and milky skin--like her father.

She shivered quietly as Anthony came up behind her; she gave the boy a tiny corner smile before asking him why he'd gathered his things.

"Father wants me to stay in France," Anthony said to Olive as he held his big gray bag over his shoulder by holding onto the leather strap connected to it. "Says the voyage is too dangerous."

"Your father is right," Olive said to him, "Too dangerous for a young boy." Anthony didn't seem to like her agreeing with his father, but she didn't care. Anthony needed to learn the hardest lesson there was to learn in life. Sometimes bad things happen to good people, and good things happen to bad people. He went on telling her that he didn't think he'd get hurt, but Olive interrupted by saying, "You are a very foolish boy Anthony."

"Madam Parker?"

"You are young and foolish; life has been kind to you. You will learn." And she strolled away from him, and began walking off the ship once it had hit port. Anthony followed her quickly, hearing his father call after him as he followed the haggish 33 year old woman off the ship.

"Be good son!" Called Anthony's father. "Get an education, stay out of trouble, find yourself a girl, and mind Madam Parker!" Anthony nodded in his father's direction before catching up with Olive Parker on the other side of the brick wall at the end of the dock, leading into the misty city.

"Is everything alright Madam Parker?" She gave him a half-smile before turning to face him; she wanted so much to look thankful for what Anthony and his father had done for her, but it was hard to be happy in a place with so many miserable shadows.

"I beg your forgiveness Anthony, in these once familiar streets; there are shadows."

"...Shadows?" Anthony questioned Olive uneasily. He partially thought she as Paranoid, but in a moment he saw her shaking away the gathering misery, like gathering rainc clouds in the sky.

"I'd like to thank you Anthony, if you hadn't spotted me; I might still be lost in the ocean." Anthony smiled at his friend, before softly asking,

"Will I see you again?"

"You can look me up if you like, 'round the opera house, I wouldn't wander." Anthony nodded viciously before extending a hand towards his friend, a hand which was garbed in brown, fingerless gloves.

"Until then, my friend." But Olive didn't shake his hand; she just took off from him muttering some incoherent thoughts to herself until she flagged down a cab and instructed him to head to 1665 Blackwood. He cabby took off, allowing Olive time to glance out of the windows of the coach and watch the people walk by, living their everyday lives in silent agreement.

The cabby dropped her off right where she wanted to be, standing at the base of a great hill; facing a large white house that looked as if it had not had any repairs since she left. Closing her eyes, she plastered a beautiful, happy image of a home and family over the gray, deserted home before her. She pretended it looked the same as it had fifteen years ago, and if she believed hard enough, it almost did.

She stepped on the creaking porch step and winced at the loud, omnipresent creeeeeeeeek noise under her boot. Slowly, she lifted her foot and treaded on the next step; although it was just as loud and ear-splitting as the other one.

As she reached the screen door, she slowly pushed it open; surprised at the cloud of dust that attacked her once she was inside. Coughing a little into her hand, she smacked the dust away and went inside further.

"Benjamin! Johanna!" She called, her heart doing triple summer-salts in her chest as she waited for her husband and daughter to come and greet her at the door. "I'm home! It's me! Olive!" But no answer.

Quickly, she descended the rotting stairs, feeling as though they would fall any moment. Benjamin must be in his office with his gramophone up too loud; that was how he liked to pass misty afternoons.

He wasn't, it looked like no one had been in there in years.

Now her heart was racing, Johanna! Where was Johanna?

She ran into the nursery and saw it too, was covered in a layer of dust. She walked in and found Johanna's little stuffed raccoon doll waiting in dust in her cradle.

The only place she had left to look was her and Benjamin's bedroom. Oh god she hoped they were there. Her heart was being stabbed as she made her way from the nursery, across the cold, dirty hallway and into the room; where she saw no one was.

A lone note sat on the bed, looking as old as everything else in the house did. She sunk onto the mattrice and lifted it up; slowly reading it in her head.

To Whom It May Concern:

I, Benjamin Parker, have decided that without my love and my life, Olive Parker, I can't go through life anymore. Days without her seem to drag on forever; and I can't stand living the rest of my life knowing my wife is slaving away in the Prison Isles, slowly decaying—if she isn't already dead.

My heart is heavy, but I must leave my Johanna to the one true friend I have. Priest Allan Banks; a good and honorable man who has done nothing for my family but give his utmost support. I trust he will raise my Johanna to be a fine young woman.

I say goodbye to this life, to my incarcerated Olive, and to Johanna. Goodbye to whom it may concern. I hope that—if my Olive is still alive—she gets this note, So that if she ever does make it out and comes home, she wouldn't have gotten her hopes up for nothing.

Goodbye,

Benjamin Parker

Her hands shook as tears slid down her face, dripping on the paper. Benjamin was dead, and Johanna was in the hands of Banks. Her hopes died, she no longer had a family; and what little family she did have, was in the hands of the worst possible person.

She eventually left the house, her steps slow and sloshing. From her home and old life, she'd taken Johanna's raccoon doll, and a tri-fold picture frame with photos of her family inside. She had to have something to hold onto from her life, even if they were the most painful memorabilia that she could have possibly gotten.

Once again she flagged down a coach, and it came. She sat for a moment before asking the cabby to take her to the opera house—the best place for a woman with no money or anywhere to go. All the while she was formulating a plan for revenge, she would not let that despicable Priest Banks get away with taking her life from her.

Woo! the re-write!! Tell me, is it better than the original? I think it is. But I don't know for positive.