A/N: Hi everyone! This is Remy, I just wanted to give a brief thing about this story. My crazed stepmother decided than fanfiction was for girls who waste their lives and then she read one of my stories with a sex scene and was appalled that I would write something like that. Shes just an old prude. So she deleted my account while I was at school one day, and then our computer crashed about a year later. I wasn't able to transfer the files to my new laptop before it crashed so all my stories that I wrote are gone. Anyway, this is the sequel to my Phantom story, but before you cringe and click the back button, this is now a story all its own. I'm going to pretend like my original story 'When a Star Dies' didn't happen and I'll just incorporate it into this story. That just means more chapter and a thicker plot, yay for all of you that enjoy that! So please read and review, tell us what you think. And thank you t my cousin Ellie, or Ellie-Ohhh, for letting me post this on hers until we switched it to mine. She's helping me with this story anyway so, she gets some of the glory.


He sat in the pit as he normally did, practicing his violin as the ballet rats rehearsed and rehearsed the same numbers over again. But that was Madame Giry for you, she was a stickler for perfection, and since most of her prized ballerinas were now either gone or retired, she was left with training the young girls to perfection. Time had been well to Madame Giry, she was old in years before he and his brother were even born, and yet she still continued to teach at the Opera Populaire. Mother said she would probably keep on teaching until the day the angels took her to heaven. The little Giry, Aunt Meg, was a retired Prima Ballerina, but he had an idea that she would return in time. It wasn't as though Aunt Meg and his mother were that old anyway.

He readjusted the music sheets on his stand, placing the violin more comfortably under his chin and began to play. He looked up from the sheet music and into the audience, where his twin was sitting, sketching the ballerinas. They looked alike, yet so undeniably different. Their looks were more inclined toward their father, as their sister Misha respectively looked the part of their mother. Demitri's shaggy hair was a bit darker than his, a bit straighter, their eyes were the same pale green but his were a tad hazel. They were the same height, weight, build, same pallid complexion, and slim artistic fingers. They were different, despite their looks, Demitri excelled in the arts, sketching, painting, writing, anything. He was bold and brash, sarcastic and mischievous, with a smirk on his lips and the quirk of his brow he could usually get away with anything. He, on the other hand, was shy and reserved, calculating yet warm. He supposed he was so shy because of the porcelain mask that molded into the right side of his face, just like his father, or maybe he had always been this way. He was more musically inclined, although they were all gifted with the talent of singing from both sides, he took up the music.

As he thought about his brother he couldn't help but thing about parents, his younger sister, his "cousins" or Aunt Meg's children, his Uncle Nadir. Speaking of Nadir, he was returning from his trip to Persia, and that return was always filled with gifts, little trinkets, and stories of the wonderous land. Nadir was their god father and he hadn't remembered a time in his life that the dark skinned man wasn't there; With the exception of his trips to his homeland of course.

He hadn't noticed that Madame Giry had stopped yelling or that the ballet rats had stopped for a break. He hadn't noticed the girl leaning against the piano, gazing at him softly, or his brothers snicker from the audience as he kept drawing. As the song came to an end he removed the instrument from under his chin and looked up, his eyebrows raised in surprise as he finally caught sight of the ballerina in front of him. She was leaning on the piano, her elbows placed on its top, supporting her head. She was tall, as to be expected, but she wasn't tall and willowy like most of the other rats, or like Aunt Meg for that matter. She was thin without being skinny, like his mother, his eyes traveled up the standard pink leotard she wore to her rounded breasts. His eyes snapped up quickly before it could be classified as staring, her eyes were wide, a pale teal color covered by thick lashes. Her hair was a dark golden like the color of burnt toast and it was in a braid, low on the side of her head, a thin headband held back her hair in the front, but hours of routines had let whips escape and all around her face is little wavy tendrils. She wasn't spectacularly beautiful, he had seen much prettier girls living here in the Opera House all his life, but there was just something about her that he found...intriguing.

"You play beautifully."

He set down his violin on the music stand and looked down sheepishly. "Thank you." She smiled at his shyness, the way he wouldn't meet her gaze. "I'm Marjorie."

He glanced up at her and returned her small smile. "Theo."

She stood from her leaning position to face him more, "So, Theo, do you play anymore instruments besides the violin?" her tone could've been seductive as she played with the curl of her hair, attempting to make conversation only so she could get something from him. He had seen it happen so many times to Demitri, who the girls usually talked to, instead her voice was light with sincere curiosity and airy conversation.

It shocked him. "Uh, yeah, I, uh, play the piano, among various other instruments but piano and violin are my favorites."

"I love the piano, I can't play that well, I only know a few childhood rhymes but I just love the way it sounds." She smiled at him, shyly this time.

He wasn't quite sure how to respond to this, girls smiling and asking questions and giving compliments were all Demitri's forte. People of the female species tended to stay away from him, he knew it was because of the mask, his reclusive nature. Which is why he found it odd that this lovely faced ballet rat all of a sudden found him interesting to talk to. But he couldn't bring himself to believe that she only talked to him because she needed something, he didn't have anything she could need and that was Demitri's department anyway. Yet, he couldn't bring himself to believe she was just only curious about his music, but he decided to give her the benefit of the doubt, for now.

"Would you play something for me?"

He thought about it for a moment, before nodding his head and went to sit in front of the piano. He broke into a song that he wrote, it was soft, slow, sensual, and he had no idea why he chose that song to play.

"So, Marjorie, you said you could play?"

She smiled shyly, body subconsciously swaying slightly to the music he produced. "Nothing like this, just old nursery rhymes my mother used to hum to me." She laughed a little, "I'm slightly musically challenged. I suppose I'll just stick to dancing."

"How did you get into Ballet?"

"Well, my mother was a ballerina here then moved to England where she became the Prima Ballerina. She enrolled me in the Opera ballet when I was old enough, then she got sick and we moved back Paris because it was her home and she wanted to be home when she died. I never met my father, so before she was put on bed rest she sent me here to live and train."

"I'm sorry to hear about your mother."

Although he had never met her, he didn't know a stitch about her other than what she'd told him, there was a sincerity in his voice, he was truly sorry to hear about her mother's passing. It touched her. "Thanks, I've come to terms with it. People die and life moves on."

"Very mature of you."

"Why thank you. I know I might look like some dumb, slightly blond, ballet rat but come on, lets be serious here." She leaned in closer, over the piano to stage whisper over his music. "I think I'm the only one up there with a lick of sense."

To prove her point further she nodded her head to the stage, where most of the girls were still sitting, taking their break. There stood a few of the more "beautiful and talented" girls, one of them told the other a simple joke, in which the other replied with a blank stare then a turn of the head and a shrug of her thin shoulders. Marjorie shook her head and let out a small chuckle, Theo smiled and laughed along.

"So, your a semi-piano playing ballerina who out-wits her fellow rats. Tell me, what else can you do?"

She shrugged her shoulders, "Not much. I always wished I could sing, be the Prima Donna..." she gazed off over his shoulders, a smile on her face. "Although, I know that's never gonna happen. Still, dreams are dreams, right?"

"I'm sure your voice isn't horrible." He watched as her eyebrows raised in speculation. "I've come to the conclusion that everyone can sing, its just a matter of how well."

"If you say so buddy." She watched this long fingers run over the ivory keys with ease and grace she knew she would never have. She wondered what else those elegant fingers could do, what other sounds they could produce...

"Come, sing for me."

He had stopped playing to look solely at her, she scoffed playfully. "Yeah, right." He quirked his brow in a why. "Your mothers Christine Daae, she probably sings to you all the time."

He chuckled, "I've come to understand that my mother has an uncommonly pure pitch and voice. I don't expect everyone to sound like her, so come, sing for me."

She played with the end of her braid, twirling the curled end, she looked slightly uneasy. "I can pretty much play anything you want." He watched as she chewed on her bottom lip for a moment in thought, then she sighed and nodded.

"Okay, fine. Uh, start out in a C and uh..."

He could tell she wasn't sure what tune the rest of the song was in, he found her stuttering endearing. "Just sing, I'll follow you and figure it out." He gave her a reassuring smile and waited for her to sing so he could play.

"All that's known
In History, in Science
Overthrown
At school, at home, by blind men

You doubt them
And soon they bark and hound you-
Till everything you say is just another bad about you

He followed the waver of her voice, starting with the simple C note and creating a song that fit the way her voice was carrying. He could tell she was trying not to sing entirely too loud, as to not call attention to herself from the other girls. He didn't blame her, he knew just how catty teenage girls could be.


All they say
Is "Trust in What is Written"
Wars are made
And somehow that is wisdom

Thought is suspect
And money is their idol
And nothing is okay unless it's scripted in their Bible

He knew why she kept her eyes down, on him and not on the stage. He could see some of the girls pointing and whispering toward them, she was embarrassed. Although, he didn't know why, it wasn't like she was terrible.


But I know
There's so much more to find-
Just in looking through myself
And not at them

Still, I know
To trust my own true mind
And to say: there's a way through this

On I go
To wonder and to learning
Name the stars and know their dark returning

I'm calling
To know the world's true yearning-
The hunger that a child feels for everything they're shown

You watch me-
Just watch me-
I'm calling
And one day all will know

You watch me-
Just watch me-
I'm calling, I'm calling.
And one day all will know"

He felt the angst, the conviction in her voice at the end of the song. No, she wasn't amazing, she didn't have the light, airy voice of an angel. But it held a passion, it was a tad deeper than most of the female singers he'd heard, but then again in Opera women's voices ranged. She needed training, major training if she was serious about her fantasy of becoming a Prima Donna, it would be a long shot, but it wouldn't be impossible for her to become a chorus girl if she had truly wanted to.

"So..." He could feel the apprehsension coming off her in waves, she actually cared what he thought? The only people to actually give a shit about his opinion were his family members, the Giry's, Nadir, and the Opera Composer Claude who he had become friends with when he was accepted into the orchestra.

"So...your not terrible." He watched her visibly relax and smile. He liked her smile, and he found he wanted to keep it there. That startled him. "If you wanted to sing, like for real, you'd need a respectable tutor. You need to learn to control your breathing better and," He stood from his spot on the piano bench and leaned over to where she stood beside the piano. He planced his large hand lightly over her diaphragm. "you need to sing from here, not your lungs. But all in all, I don't think it would be that hard for you to become a chorus girl."

He removed his cold hand, it left goosebumps on her skin. Even threw her leotard she could feel it, the cold that emanated from him, she didn't mind though, she hated to be hot. She nodded her head at his notes watched as he stood before her, just standing quietly. He was rambling on about something music related but she couldn't help but look him over. He stood tall, towering a few inches over her, he was broad without being bulky with wide shoulders that tapered into a narrow waist. She found a word to describe him: Long. He was long, his fingers, his arms, his legs, his torso. He was wearing black dress pants that fit him nicely, a white button down, that had only the first button undone and the sleeves rolled up to the elbows, exposing his powerful forearms and brilliant hands. Her eyes traveled up the column of his neck to the strong jawline it supported, his skin was pallid, worse than hers, the porceline mask almost blending into the skin.

That mask. She wondered about that mask, boy did she wonder. She may have been the bouisterous ballerina that you couldn't help but love despit her loud presence, but she wasn't so rude that she would outright ask about it. She did have some decency and common sense. The left side of his face was just so, alluring though. His dark hair was tousled softly across his eyes in waves, he attempted to part it on the left side, so his hair hid the top part of his mask. His eyes were a pale green outlined in dark lashes. She wondered how any girl had resisted him, he was smart, talented, handsome, but it was that mask that no one could seem to get past.

She found herself stuck in his eyes, she didn't even realize he had stopped talking about music and had asked her a question. It wasn't until the small smile appeared on his lips that she shook herself out of it. "Uh, sure."

His smile widened, "You have no idea what I asked you, do you."

"Not a clue."

He laughed and was pleased to find she had laughed along with him. "Its alright, I tend to have that affect on people." Although his tone was playful, his gaze dropped down to where his hand was resting on the piano.

"I wasn't staring at your mask if that's what you were thinking."

He was surprised at her. No one had the audacity to say it to his face, no one with respect anyway. They would stare at it, never looking really at him, no one saw past the mask. They would never vocalize it either, they would pretend not to notice it and feign ignorance about it. The only people to ever call him out on it were the nasties, they were the people who stared in morbid horror and called him 'Freak' and 'Devil Spawn'. It was like having a physical defect, everyone notices but only the assholes point it out. The only people who he knew honestly didn't care and forgot about it where the people he considered family, close family. Then came this girl with her own category all together, he knew she looked past his mask, meeting his eyes at all times, truly interested in what he had to say, with her teal eyes and smooth voice. She had pointed out his flaw with a light conversational air about it, this one was interesting, this one he'd have to hang on to...

"I know you weren't, most people do though. They try to forget that its there, but they do a bad job at hiding it."

He chuckled lightly and looked into her eyes. "I know you have a mask, there's no reason to pretend its not there. But, I happen to think it just makes you more mysterious." She dropped her voice deeper and waggled her eyebrows playfully at him.

He couldn't help but laugh, "Mysterious, really." she nodded her head. "Oh yeah, the elusive Theo Daae-Destler with his white mask and introverted ways and his outgoing twin brother Demitri Daae-Destler who always seemed to be sketching something and flirting with someone. Oh yes, you two are very much talked about amongst the rats, but everyone agrees your the more mysterious one. You never seem to talk to anyone besides Demitri and the Giry's, people say you never leave, that you live here in the Opera house. None of the rats are brave enough to come and talk to you, they seem to be afraid of what you'll say," She smiled and thought about it for a second. "or won't."

His brows furrowed as a thought came to him. "But, your the only one brave enough." He said it as if their whole meeting made sense now.

"I wasn't dared to come over here if that's what your thinking."

"You seem pretty sure you know what I'm thinking."

"I'm just a good guesser."

They stared at each other for a while, just standing there next to the piano, both thinking different things as they stared into the depths of the others eyes. They didn't notice Madame Giry standing on stage, tapping her cane, or the corps line up on stage for the end of break. They didn't notice Demitri's chuckle from the audience as Madame Giry lined the girls up and counted and concluded one of her ballerinas was missing. They didn't notice as she turned around and looked down, into the orchestra pit, clearing her throat several times before she wacked Theo in the back of the head lightly with her cane.

He cried out, a hand shooting up to rub the back of his head, turning to find the raised eyebrows and calm face of Madame Antoinette Giry. "Theo James, will you please stop distracting my ballerinas. We do have an Opera to put on." She turned her gaze from him to Marjorie. "DuBois! Up, in line now!"

"Yes, Madame." She said hurriedly.

She gave them one last icy glance before turning back to her girls, muttering to herself about how an Opera House was no place for seventeen year old boys to live and what was it with Destler men and their ballerinas. Marjorie turned her gaze back to Theo, her eyes wide. "So you do live here."

He rolled his eyes at her and she smiled. "Goodbye Marjorie." She walked behind him to the stage, stepped on the piano stool and jumped onto the stage, she turned and walked backwards. "I'll see you later Theo."

She turned back around and hurried to her spot in line, keeping her eyes on her pointe shoes and biting the inside of her cheeks to keep from smiling. Theo watched and shook his head in amusement, he picked up his violin, putting it in its case, and started collecting the sheet music. Demitri appeared in front of him, leaning against the outside of the pit, looking down at his twin, smirking.

"Shes cute."

He looked up from where he was putting his things away and met his brothers hazel eyes. "Shut up." Demitri looked mock appalled. "I was simply commenting on your girlfriend's - "

"Shes not my girlfriend."

His voice came out in a harsh whisper, glancing repeatedly toward the stage where the girls had began their routine. Demitri held up his hands in a accusatory manner as Theo emerged from the pit and walked past him, around the stage to one of the maintenance doors. Demitri followed suite, nagging him the whole way as they walked down hallways, past many dancers and singers, into a closet and through a passage way down to the cellars.

"So do tell me dear brother, if you don't like her "that way", as you so eloquently put it, then why are you getting so defensive when I ask about her?"

Theo walked ahead of him, attempting to get away from him quicker, to bad Demitri had always been a tad more athletic than his brother. Demitri walked in front of Theo, walking backwards so he could look at his brother at the same time. They had been graced with balance and awareness also from their father, but at the moment Theo really wished they hadn't so Demitri would trip and stop bothering him.

"I really don't unnderstand why your being like this, I mean if you really like her - "

"I'm not acting like anything, I'm just not going to let you poke fun at me over a girl I just befriended today."

"I'm not poking fun at you, I'm just being your brother. So, tell me about her. Shes pretty, and not in a statuesque way either."

He sighed, he knew that Demitri wasn't going to drop it until he gave him some kind of information. "Her name is Marjorie DuBouis, her mother was a Prima Ballerina in London, she dreams to be a Prima Donna - "

"Okay, I didn't ask for her lifes story, I just asked for you to tell me about her, from your perspective."

"I think shes pretty, for a ballet rat, shes intriguing and I can't figure out what it is that draws me in. She needs a tutor, but she doesn't have a horrid singing voice, she could get into the chorus easily if she tried. Shes boisterous and not afraid to speak her mind and," He looked down at his feet while they walked, Demitri noticing this. "she looked me in the eyes from the moment she started talking to me."

He hadn't meant to, but as soon as his brother said that his eyebrows raised. Sure, it was no big deal to him what the right side of Theo's face looked like, or the fact that he wore a white porcelain mask. Their father had the same thing, the same mask, it didn't bother any of them, it was the outsiders he worried about. No one, since they were children, looked Theo in the eyes when they first met him, their eyes stayed glued to the mask obscuring the right side of his face. He knew this saddened his twin, and as much as Theo told them he didn't mind it anymore, he knew it hurt his twin. So, when he was told that someone, a mere ballet girl, had done what no one, save their loved ones, seemed capable of doing surprised him to say the least.

"You need to become best friends with this girl and... marry her or something."

Theo let a smile slip onto his face and a chuckle from within escape at his brothers foolishness. "Dem, shut up."

"Hey, I'm just saying." He looked excited as he pulled out his sketch pad. "Want to see my drawing?"

Theo grinned. "Sure." He took the pad from Demitri, careful not to smudge the dark pencil. It was a collage of random musings, one of the girls doing a Croise Devant pose, one girl lazily standing on the tips of her pointe shoes gazing off into space, Madame Giry angrily staring at... him and Marjorie? He looked up at his brother who nodded, "Good, isn't it."

It was the moment after he had stood up to show her the proper place to breathe from, his hand was resting on the piano, she stood on the pointes of her shoes gazing up at him with a smile on her face, her hands clasped idly behind her back. The picture was in profile, so the two of them were facing each other. He shook his head, it was rather good, he just wished it wasn't of him and his new found friend.

"I think I'll call it, 'You breathe from here.' Got a nice ring, doesn't it?"

He punched him in the shoulder at his teasing remark about when he showed Marjorie where to breathe from. "I'm not quite sure if I got her bust right though. You were staring at it, does it look alright to you?" He felt a blush come to cheeks at Demitri's remark, his voice was full of innocence he didn't posses.

Grabbing the pad from Theo's hands he turned and sprinted forward, laughing as his brother chased him down the stone corridor. Obscenities were thrown and laughing was all that could be heard from one of the Daae-Destler boys, all the way down until they made it to the shore where the gondola stood waiting. Demitri tried to jump in it before Theo could reach him, but Theo jumped on him at the last second and they both came tumbling down onto the ground. They wrestled for a couple of minutes before Theo pinned Demitri down, locking his thighs and putting his hands above his head.

"Say it."

"No!"

"Say it!

"NO!

"SAY IT!"

"NO!"

Theo twisted his wrists, "Just say it!"

"Fine!"

He sighed and shifted under the weight of his brother, "I'm...I'm a....I'm not saying it!"

"Say. It."

"I'm a...grade 'A'...fop. There! Are you happy now, Oh King of the World?"

"I don't need your sarcasm Demitri, I get enough of it from Father."

He pushed off the ground and off of Demitri, helping him up by the arm. They brushed the dirt off their black pants got into the boat, rowing across the dead lake to their home. They could hear their mother's heavenly voice flitter through the air and their fathers cooking as well, Theo heard a hearty laugh that could only belong to Nadir.

Demitri looked to him excitedly, "Uncle Nadir." "Uncle Nadir." They answered together and smiled, they knew exactly what that meant, and they rowed faster to get across the lake.


A/N: So not exactly Erik/Christine. Although its their children. Like I said, it was suppose to be a sequel but I'm just going to make it start from the future instead. How many original non-cliche stories start like this? Huh? That's right, didn't think many. So I promise you, there will be juicy E/C scenes as well as the lives of their children, Meg's children. I'll throw in how they got together too, I'll do a couple of chapters about that. Maybe we'll go back and fourth? What do you think? I'll take ideas and suggestions, this story is always prone to change but for now I think I have a pretty good idea of where its headed. Oh, and I dislike Raoul so I'm not sure if I'm going to have him ruining everything. But...maybe his son could ruin...I dunno, what do you guys think? We have yet to meet their daughter, so maybe there could be a little Raoul's spawn -cough- son could have some part in Christine and Erik's daughters life? Ohh I can see Erik now. Tell me what you think!