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"Come on Marie, dear, relax," Charles sighed as I taped my foot impatiently. Charles was a stagehand, one of my three closest friends, and we were standing up on one of the catwalks. It was the opening night of Il Muto and I, a ballet rat and chorus girl, would not be performing tonight because I had been too ill to attend rehearsals. It was terribly boring being forced to watch the performance rather than part-taking in it. I swear, I will kill Roselina for getting me sick five days before the performance! I had missed three days of rehearsals, causing me to be ill-fit for performing in the opera.

"I'm sorry Charles! It's just so terribly boring! I can't believe I fell ill right before rehearsals!" I hissed to anger as we watched canopy around the bed on the stage open, revealing Carlotta and Christine to be 'kissing'. I sighed impatiently and in anger at this new sight. Christine was another of my three closest friends, the third being Little Meg Giry. I knew Christine had a splendid voice, yet they cast that true toad- Carlotta- instead!

"Oh dear," Charles muttered as we listened to Carlotta's earsplitting voice screech. I winced yet again as I sighed, shaking my head.

"Christine has a wonderful voice. I can't believe they won't cast her just to spite him," I muttered to Charles. He nodded before taking a sip from his hipflask, which I knew to contain water. We both knew that by 'him' I meant the Phantom. He had requested- more like demanded- that Christine play the part of the Countess and Carlotta the page boy. I had been there when the note had been read in fact, and I couldn't help but agree with him. Carlotta would most likely just ruin this show.

"I know. It was never like with all the prior managers! They all listened to him," Charles agreed with a sigh as the 'Count' walked in, singing of his leaving to England.

"Yes, and it was because he knew best. These two know nothing of opera. They're just stubborn businessmen who think they know best. If they would only take his criticism in stride, the Opera House's reputation wouldn't be sinking once again," I replied angrily as I huffed, watching as Christine threw off her costume and they continued to sing. We watched quietly before Charles replied.

"Yes. Well, at least both she and Meg look-," Charles began to say when a deep, voice resounded off the walls of the theatre. I glanced up at the ceiling in shock to see a dark figure standing up by the service door for the chandelier.

"Did I not instruct that box five was to be kept empty?" I watched as the figure stood there, his deep voice still resounding across the theatre. The audience stared up in shock and confusion while many of the performers stood nervously on stage. I could hear, even from the catwalk, whispers and hisses of it being him- The Phantom of the Opera.

"He's here, the Phantom of the Opera!" I could hear Meg saying anxiously yet excitedly. I turned to Charles who was shaking his head.

"I'll be right back- stay here," he said, putting his hands on my shoulders before turning and running across the catwalk.

"Where are you going?!" I shouted after him. He stopped at the end of the catwalk and turned back to look at me.

"I have to help restore order!" he called to me before he climbed a rope to another catwalk, leaving me alone. I sighed as I looked down at the stage, seeing Carlotta using her spray before walking back onto the stage and speaking to Monsieur Reyer, our maestro.

"A disaster beyond imagination, indeed," I muttered. That hadn't seemed to be such a terrible disaster. It was at most, up to par with his other tricks and pranks he pulled at the opera house. It was terribly unimaginative for the Opera Ghost. Unless… unless there was something else. I frowned at this and walked across the catwalk, trying to get a better view of the stage. I moved to another catwalk, located right above the stage and watched as Carlotta began to sing again.

"You cannot-a speak, but kiss me in my—croak!" I stopped mid-stride, staring down at Carlotta's shocked figure. I started to giggle uncontrollably then, unable to hold it in any longer. "Poor fool he makes me laugh, croak, croak, croak!" I began to laugh even harder as she screamed and ran off the stage, the curtain falling in place. It was about time she received what she dished out to everyone. I heard the thud of footsteps coming closer and I felt the catwalk I was on swing, jiggling. I looked up to see a rather decidedly drunk Josef Buquet stumble onto the catwalk, a bottle of alcohol of some sorts in his hands. He was red in the face and seemed far drunker than normal- something that was both funny yet terribly dangerous… for me.

"Well, well, well. Lookie what we've got he'e," Buquet said, slurring his words. He smiled at seeing me. "I was-a… chasin' that… der… Phan-Phan-ghost. Looks like we got a real beauty up here," he said, his smile turning slightly sadistic. "What's wrong, Princess? Did yer lil' toy leave you all alone?" he asked, gesturing down backstage to where Charles was standing.

"Charles and I are just friends, Buquet, and I'd advise you leave me alone… now," I told him. Everyone knew Buquet had to be handled firmly. He stumbled closer, now only a few inches away from me. I stepped back, leaning up against the rope of the catwalk, only to realize there wasn't anywhere else for me to go except to run to the end of the catwalk and attempt to climb up to the one above us.

"Nah… I don't think I will," he whispered as he took another step closer so that he was practically right on top of me. "I'd very much like to have a good time with you and try you out. I may not get this chance again," he said as his hands moved down to my breasts, cupping them.

"Get off!" I yelled, trying desperately to push him away. He only grabbed my arm, jerking it behind me, and pulled me closer.

"Make me," he replied, his hot and terribly breath fanning across my face. I gagged, faintly hearing the music for the ballet from Act 3 begin. I struggled some more, trying desperately to separate myself from this beast but his grip was painfully strong- too strong for me to break away from.

"Get off! Charles will kill you for this! He'll get you!" I cried out, still trying to break away, hoping that the threat of Charles coming down hard on him would scare him. After all, Charles was a strong, good man and stagehand. He was stronger than Buquet, that was for sure, and Charles was one of the only stagehands that Buquet wouldn't wish to cross.

"He won't know, princess," he hissed again as his hands moved up to the top of my dress and slipped downwards, touching the cloth of my corset.

"Get-"

"Shut up!" He hissed before shoving me to the ground and straddling me. I cried out again as I felt him slip his hand up my skirt, feeling up the insides of my thighs. I yelled out again, hoping desperately for someone to hear me as his hand slipped upwards, grasping the top of my slip. "Shhh… you'll enjoy this," he whispered as I continued to cry.

"Please, stop!" I cried, hoping to appeal to whatever humanity he had left. I was now pleading, begging at this point to no avail. He wasn't stopping and I could see no other alternative: he was set on deflowering me. "Please! Please, help me! Someone please help!" I cried out. As I felt him start to pull down my slip, I saw a flicker of movement in the shadows before Buquet was thrown from me and across the catwalk.

I quickly wiped the tears from my eyes and pulled myself to my feet to face my rescuer. He was dressed all in black, practically blending with the shadows, except for a stark white mask. His face was emotionless as he took in my state. He opened his mouth, to ask what I wasn't sure, but was interrupted by Buquet leaping from his position on the ground onto his back, trying to push him over the side of the catwalk.

I jumped back, gasping in horror as they both fell to the floor of the catwalk. The man, my rescuer, who I now knew to be the Phantom, rolled over, pinning Buquet to the ground and punching him square in the jaw. Buquet fell backwards, seemingly dazed, and the Phantom stood up. His back was to me and I watched as he appeared to brush dust off before turning to face me.

I looked into his eyes, registering them as a beautiful green color, lighter than emerald but still possessing that same gem-like quality. The thing that probably drew me most about his eyes was the raw emotion I could see in them. There was such pain in them and loneliness that it made me want to cry out in sorrow. I felt a weird sensation, as if I was drawn to him, and I couldn't help but wonder what made him- this man, not ghost- so sorrow-filled and lonely. What on earth would cause such a man to live such a lonely life, haunting an opera house? What on earth could force him to take up the mantle of a ghost, cut off from everyone?

It was then that he stumbled again as Buquet launched at him, wrapping his arm around his neck, attempting to choke him. The Phantom easily threw him off and turned to glare at him. Buquet charged at him, pushing him against the rope which gave a strained noise from the weight. The catwalk swayed dangerously and I stumbled, grabbing the opposite rope to hold myself up.

I watched in horror as the rope snapped and the two looked about to topple over the catwalk. They both grabbed the edge, forcing it to tilt. I held on to the rope, fearing for my life. If I released the rope now, I would fall over the edge of the catwalk and onto the stage, surely to catch my death.

I cried out in shock as the Phantom and Buquet both scrambled back onto the catwalk, the rope in the Phantom's hand. The catwalk leveled and I released my grasp on the rope. I heard a strangled cry from Buquet as he once more launched himself at the Phantom, who hit him squarely in the jaw. Buquet fell to the ground and the Phantom leapt on top of him, pinning him down. He slipped the rope around his neck, tying it into a noose, and yanked the rope.

He stood up, pulling Buquet to his feet by the rope. I heard Buquet give a strangled yell as the rope tightened. Glaring, Buquet tried to pull the rope loose as it slowly cut off his air supply. I opened my mouth, to shout and tell the Phantom to kill the miserable man already, but Buquet did the job all on his own. He made one last desperate charge at the Phantom. The Phantom, shocked, released the rope and quickly moved out of the way.

I watched as Buquet ran right off the edge of the catwalk, causing it to tilt dangerously, before leveling out again. I watched as the rope Buquet was attached to snag on a hook and Buquet was hung before my eyes. I heard a horrific snap as he fell down to hang just above the stage. I felt two hands grasp my shoulders and pull me back into the shadows of the catwalk as the ballet rats screamed, looking up in horror. The rope finally gave way and Buquet's lifeless body fell down onto the stage, next to Meg, with his lifeless eyes staring up towards the spot we stood.

I breathed a sigh of relief and turned to face the Phantom, the man who had saved my virtue and quite possibly my life. I saw him standing there with a grim expression on his face as he winced slightly, staring down at the body on the stage which was his doing. I could see in his eyes that he immediately regretted doing it, even though it wasn't necessarily his fault and since it was in both his and my defense. He looked up at me then, snarling slightly.

"If you value your life, you shall speak of this to no one," he told me, his voice deathly calm and dangerous. It was sharp, powerful, and commanding yet musical all at the same time. As if rooted to the spot, I simply nodded, struck by the beauty of what I could see of his face. He gave a curt nod, glaring slightly before turning to disappear into the shadows.

"Thank you," I whispered before he disappeared into the shadows.

"Marie!" I heard the call and I turned to see Charles running onto the catwalk. I cried slightly and fell to my knees just as Charles reached me. "Come on, let's go. He may still be here," he said as he pulled me up, walking away and scanning the shadows for the perpetrator of the murder. "Come on- they need to finish the performance and they need you on as the Pageboy. Let's go. Did you see anything? Are you alright? What happened?" I shook my head and nodded slightly as we walked down from the catwalk to the area backstage. Yes, What did just happen?

A/N: Well, that was the first chapter of my very first POTO fanfic! I've had this idea bouncing around in my head for a while now! I hope you all enjoy it! Anyways, throughout the fanfiction, I will say that things may seems to be going a little quickly. However, as I don't want this to turn into a super long fanfiction, I will be skipping a lot of time. At the beginning of each chapter, usually there'll be an explanation of how much time has passed. I'll also add an explanation in the Author's note just in case. So, the next chapter will take place right after the cast finishes performing Il Muto, with Marie having played the part of the Pageboy, and Christine having played the part of the Countess. Carlotta, for those who wonder, has run off (for obvious reasons).

In addition, this fanfiction will take place in the 2004 movie. You can gather that it has followed the 2004 plot events up until this chapter. Everything from here will be different yet recognizable.