hello phans! This is a Phanfic i've been working on-and-off for a while! I hope you enjoy it! I don't own anything except the character of Anais! R&R if you will!

- Cyan

Summary: "Erik is in persuit of his Christine, until an old friend of hers reappears into her life, challenging him in more ways than he would have guessed. And when the Vicomte arrives, how willing will he be to let Christine go?" An insertation of a new character and me portraying Christine for what I think she really is.

All I Ask of You

Chapter One – L'fantôme

The Opera Populaire was in uproar – the Leading Lady La Carlotta was quickly leaving. Erik surveyed the scene with a satisfied look on his face: he despised La Carlotta.

Below, the two new managers were in a panic. "Signora Carlotta…she will be coming back, won't she?" Gilles Andre asked the maestro.

He gave a defeated shrug and turned back to his orchestra.

"A full house, Andre! We'll have to refund a Full House!" Richard Firmin gasped.

"Christine Daae could sing it, monsieur!" announced Madame Giry, the stern-faced ballet mistress.

Erik smiled: his Christine was ready, and the new managers had no idea of the beauty that would soon grace their ears. Erik stayed to listen to his Christine sing and after hearing the manager's praises, began his way back across the catwalk.

"Excuse me, Mademoiselle!" the voice of Firmin reached his ears. Afraid the managers were mistreating his Christine, he hurried back to his place on the catwalk. They weren't; instead, they were now inquiring after the identity of an unknown girl. She looked about his Christine's age – perhaps a month or so younger.

"My name is Anais de Chagny. I've come to audition for a place in the chorus. The Manager, monsieur Lefevre told me I should come today." She explained, handing him an envelope.

"De Chagny? As in the Vicomte de Chagny?" Andre asked excitedly.

Anais nodded, "The Vicomte is my brother, monsieur." She replied.

Firmin and Andre glanced at each other; a moment of silent communication passed through them and they both looked back at Anais. "Mademoiselle, as you can see, we are busy rehearsing at this time. Perhaps you could come by later?" Firmin suggested.

"Tell me, Mademoiselle, is your brother in town?" Andre pressed as they led her back through the aisle.

Their sole interest in her lay in her connection to her brother and parents – on her own, she was of little worth, bar a wife entailing a large dowry. And from her lack of beauty, the dowry would be very high indeed.

Erik did not understand the ways of the society he lived on the edge of. A girl with a family with a title was only being spoken to because of her brother…was she not worth knowing otherwise? He studied her as the two managers walked her away, not so subtly dropping hints about a lack of patronage for the opera.

She was petite in build, with clear, tanned skin. She had honey-blonde hair that was pulled back and up in a fashionable style. Her fashion was modern and expensive, her poise practiced to the point of perfection. When she turned to gaze around as if she felt his eyes, he saw a plain, rather squared face with intelligent coffee-brown eyes searching the stage curiously.

But Erik was not the only one staring at the Vicomte's sister. Joseph Buquet, master of the flies, watched the feminine curves of her figure lustily, taking another swig from his bottle of wine. He grinned to himself: perhaps this piece of blue-blooded skirt would serve him nicely.

Erik was once more about to leave when he heard his Christine talking.

"That girl, Anais…she was my friend as a child. We used to spend our summers by the sea together…and Raoul, her brother…well, you could say we were childhood sweethearts." She finished, grinning at Meg Giry, who she was talking to.

"Raoul; As in the Vicomte? I've seen him once before! He's so handsome." Meg sighed dreamily.

Christine nodded, "He once rescued a scarf of mine from the sea." She nodded.

"Perhaps the girl – I've forgotten her name – could get you back in touch with him, Christine. You're beautiful enough to tempt a Vicomte!"

Christine laughed and Erik glared at the petite figure of Meg Giry…she was not a good influence on his Christine! The careless dancer was growing on his bad side – and so was this 'Raoul', the Vicomte, whom he had never met. Throwing his cloak in frustration, he turned and began to walk away, silent as a shadow.

"Christine!"

The girl in question paused as she heard her name being called in the soft, elegant voice. She turned to see Anais walking up to her, a smile across her face.

"Anais! I was afraid you wouldn't recognize me!" Christine gasped, touching her childhood friend on the arm.

"Well, you have changed, Little Lotte! I'd never have thought it: you, a Prima Donna!" Anais replied good-naturedly.

"I'm not a Prima Donna, mes amie. I was merely filling in for La Carlotta." Christine replied, a faint blush rising in her cheeks.

Anais laughed, "You could never be a Prima Dona with such modesty! Come, Christine, I thought you longed to be a ballerina?"

Christine opened the door of the dressing room she was using – it had been Carlotta's, but she was granted use of it for tonight. "I was a ballerina, Anais. Oh, and I loved it too…but soon it became apparent that my singing was the thing that was going to make the most of my talents." She smiled, "But come, Anais, tell me: how did your audition go?"

Anais' joy-filled face became overcast for a moment. She stood and crossed to the full-length mirror on the furthest wall, gazing at her reflection. "I sang that best I have ever sung in my life time, and yet the managers made it clear I would only be a member of the Opera Populaire's chorus with the patronage of the de Chagny family."

Christine took a sympathetic glance at Anais before walking behind the opaque changing screen. "And are you planning to give them it?" she asked curiously.

"I don't know." Anais replied, brushing a lock of loose hair behind her ear, "I do wish I had gotten in on my own before." She paused, "I would have gotten in if I were more beautiful." She admitted.

The room subtly dropped in temperature and she glanced around for the reason. Finding nothing, she brushed it off. She turned back around and saw Christine emerge from the opaque screen, dressed in regular clothing, "Anais…if you truly want this, go to Raoul and ask him to become a patron. It is giving the managers what they want and giving you what you want." Christine advised.

Anais nodded and stood, "well, Christine. I would love to stay and talk with you about your times in the Opera Populaire, but I'm afraid I have things to do. I will see you again soon." She kissed her friend on either cheek once and left the dressing room.

Christine smiled sadly at the door and almost jumped when she heard a voice sing, Brava, Brava, bravisima!

"Angel…I am here." She replied unnecessarily.

"You did very well tonight." The voice of her angel complimented, seeming to come from every inch of the room.

"Thank you, my angel." Christine replied, blushing.

The voice seemed to pause, though it was not making any sound. "You must rest, Christine. We will continue your lessons once Hannibal is over." It informed her.

Christine was about to say something, but she got the sense that her Angel was already gone…

Erik walked through the hollow walls of the Opera House, taking his usual route past the chapel. The night was cold enough to dwindle the numbers of Parisians on the street, and he was running low on a few essential items. So it was the night-market for him.

But as he drew closer to the chapel, a soft voice caught his attention in its prayer.

"…and lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil." It finished. With a deep shuddering breath, it added: "and give me the strength to pursue my dreams. Amen."

He recognized the voice: it was the Vicomte's sister…the aspiring chorus girl. He'd overheard her in his Christine's dressing room, while watching her from behind the mirror. He was about to pass by unnoticed when a sob caught his attention. Surprising himself, he found he was talking to her, just like he had to his Christine so long ago…

Anais jumped as she heard a voice, seeming to whisper down from the roof, "Mademoiselle de Chagny, what inspires such sorrow?"

Suspicion swirled in her mind and she found herself whispering, "L'fantôme de l'opera…" she took a deep, shuddering breath, self-consciously wiping away her tears, "What mischief have you planned tonight?"

"None so far. Now, come, la belle, why are you crying?"

"Nothing of particular interest to you, l'fantôme." She replied warily.

"You want to be a chorus girl."

It was not a question. Anais narrowed her eyes at the space around her, where had l'fantôme been listening? "Yes." She replied warily, "But I was not accepted."

"Perhaps I can help? I can be very…persuasive, when the need arrises."

"If I wanted their minds changed I could do it without the help of a mysterious ghost!" she snapped, offence darkening her mood.

"Ahhh, I see. You do not want their minds to be changed…you want to have been accepted for what you are." Again, it was not a question.

"Yes…" Anais ventured cautiously.

"Well, isn't it obvious? You must get better!" the voice was whispering now, seeming to come from directly behind her left ear. She jumped back in fright, half-expecting to crash into someone. There was nothing.

Shuddering, she recited the words of her last voice tutor: "A badly made instrument will never sound fine, not for all the tuning in the world."

"The words of a cruel Prima Donna."

This time, the voice was on her right. She whirled and saw nothing. Feeling her temper snap, she glared at the space around her, "Christine's precious Angel of Music could not make my voice fine!" she yelled into the air before angrily fleeing from the chapel and – soon – the Opera House.

Unbeknownst to her, Erik grinned to himself, "Now that sounded like a challenge."

I hope you enjoyed it! I'm not french so any Grammatical Errors are entirely unintentional. Stay tuned for the next chapter!