Okay everyone, this is Starflower-Gem speaking. Emily and I have decided to do a co-authored story. We hope you enjoy our little story. Oh, and we will be switching off on who writes the chapters, so if they are in slightly different styles, that would be why...I hope it's not too distracting. (this chapter is Emilies making)

Disclaimer: We don't own The Phantom of the Opera! (Emily breaks in and starts yelling) BUT WE DO OWN JESSICA! SHE'S OURS & U CAN'T HAVE HER!

um...yeah...Enjoy!

Masked

Prologue: After Thoughts

The fools that came here didn't know that I hid inside the broken mirror. My eyes watched them run their hands over my possessions but my mind thought of nothing but Christine; my ingénue; my light in the darkness; my only hope. Perhaps I deserved it; perhaps this is my payment for being the ghost that I am; a murderer; a tormentor. Tears run down my cheeks as I see her smiling face dance across my memories. The smile of an angel.

That Angel could have been mine. I was selfish, I admit. That very selfishness lost me my Angel. No, not mine, the viscount's. I take a deep breath, brushing the bitter thoughts away. I had to focus on the current situation.

"The opera ghost ain't here, Mademoiselle Giry. Perhaps he disappeared." The coarse voice of a worker brought me back to reality. From behind the curtain I could see little Margaret Giry pick up my mask. She caressed the smooth white surface with her hands. "Perhaps, he is gone." She whispered clutching my mask to her chest. "Let's go, before he comes back to haunt us again."

As I watch the mob leave, I let out a sigh of relief. Finally, alone again in my dark sanctuary. The angel in hell. I smirk at my own thoughts. It was true. Then again, I'm no angel; a demon perhaps? Perhaps only time will tell what was in store for me. Once I was sure the fools were gone, I stepped out and surveyed my collections. Though they were dimwits, none of them broke or stole anything except my mask. I touch the scarred half of my face. A face of a monster, a monster that lost his only love but an hour ago. With fresh tears running down my face I let out a moan of despair, a cry of anger and grief in one sound.

The moon lighted my path as I walk silently on the streets of Paris; it has been a few weeks since I last saw Christine. My mask, luckily I always kept a spare, covers half of my face, once more reflecting the dim light given by the candles burning in the lampposts. The night was a special one for me. It was the first night in weeks since I stepped out to the world a new man. No, a new phantom.

I no longer bother the simple minded idiots that run my opera house. Not since Christine left. Since the toad Carlotta moved away when her darling was killed by none other than me, the opera house was quiet. The so-call managers closed it down seeing that no profit can be made out of a broken down opera house. Antoinette and Meg would come often to recall old memories and take their belongings.

Then there was Christine. It was the news that she had wedded the young viscount that brought me out from my darkness. I couldn't win her back. Quite frankly I didn't want her back, not after she betrayed me like that and she didn't deserve my tears of sadness. That bridge was crossed and although I didn't hold my Aminta in my arms, I felt much happier than I had felt in days. I smile into my dark coat as I vow silently to never fall in love with another woman again. I'll never let that weakness consume me, not twice. Not after the heartache it cost me.

The road before me was foggy on that Tuesday night. A night perfect for me to avoid any human contact. I walk silently although my strides are wide. I feel the cold dampness of the mist on the uncovered side of my face. 'I remember there was mist, swirling mist upon a vast glassy lake.' Anger flowed through me as I recalled the sweet angelic voice of the little wench. 'Forget Christine!' I silently scold myself. Perhaps she'll be a scar I'll hold forever. Well, that's what I get for wearing my heart on my sleeve. I walk on moving as fast as I can, hoping the musky air would drain out all thought of Christine.

Then suddenly, my feet hit a solid form. Looking down I see something huddled with a cloak covering it. Not any something, but a young woman. I nudge the figure with the tip of my shoe. It moans. Or should I say she moans. My curiosity getting the better of me, I kneel down and push the mass of red hair covering her face. The girl would be quite pretty if the bruises on her face weren't there. I tug the cloak off her body and to my shock her arms are blue black too.

I stared at the woman. Should I leave her there to die in the cold? Perhaps take her to an inn where she would be taken care of. No, I was still a wanted man in Paris and the mask was a big giveaway. I stood up willing myself to leave the forlorn figure on the street. I walk but a few steps away when I find myself turning and picking her up.

She wasn't so heavy but felt rather delicate in my arms. As delicate as another woman, the only other woman I had held in my arms before. I start walking back to my dark home. I glanced occasionally at the woman to see her long eyelashes still touching her pink cheeks. I walked slowly in fear of waking her. But it seemed to do no good. I felt her stirring in my arms but I daringly walked on. However, the red headed woman just slept on.

I wonder what trauma the young lady went through leaving herself lying on the streets like that. I walk into my shadowy home and laid her down on Christine's bed. The white sheets seem to match her red hair giving her beaten body an innocent look. 'Stop it. You have to dispose her immediately. Send her to Antoinette before she wakes up.!' My inner self went on ranting as I watched the little lady sleep. What if she wakes up and screams at the monster before her? I wondered what I would do with her when the figure of the woman shifted on the satin sheets. I held my breath as I watched her open her eyes. She looked around the room groggily then her eyes widened in fear as she looked at me. I stared back at her calmly. Her flushed skin turned pale except for her purple bruises.

"Who are you?" she whispered fearfully. I noticed she clutched the covers over herself after making sure she was fully clothed.

"I think the question is who are you?" I replied icily.

The woman gulped before saying with a trembling voice, "Jessica, Jessica Fournier."

Well, we hope you enjoyed the first chapter of our new story. If you want to read my separate pieces, they can be found at: Starflower-Gem

Starflower-Gem: Okay. I would have another chapter up soon, only I'm going on a small trip. I will finish the next chapter while I'm away, and I'll post it shortly after. I suggest you go read my other stories (or at least my phantom story) while your waiting. I'll be gone for about four day's. I'll post the next chapter shortly after I return. I expect at least five to ten reviews before I get back! (teasingly)

Review!