A/N: Yay! Some of you like it! That's all I need to keep going on with this fic!

xxx

My current situation was very odd. I was an American woman, with short hair (not a normal occurence here), and I was wearing clothing that did not belong in the time period I had been tossed back into. In fact, I was forced for the time being to wear a pair of Alfred - that was the man's name that had brought me to his room if I hadn't mentioned it before - very loose pants and too big shirt. He told me I could borrow them until I got myself money after working at the Opera Populair.

Ah- yes, yes, I know it sounds ridiculous. All of this sounds ridiculous, but after hours of thinking and mulling the idea over I think that that stupid music box had had some type of magic on it. Unless you know, I was currently in a coma from hitting that impossibly high note I'd hit the a few nights before (which was probably not possible since I could feel, touch, taste, and smell everything around me).

But at the moment I couldn't think about that. Right now, I was attempting to figure out what my new boss was trying to tell me. He wanted me to do something but seeing as how I wasn't fluent in any French... It just came out as something akin to nicely worded gibberish. At some point Alfred came rushing up to shield me away from the bigger man. He seemed to explain why I was slow to him. I faintly heard 'American' in his little speech. With a clap to the back, I as led to what I had to do.

Alfred quickly showed me what I needed to do - several times in fact - before leaving me to my own devices.

Yes, that's right! If you'd been curious to why I'm speaking about working it's because after the few days of settling into my new home with my new room mate, he decided I should get a job. Which I did and when I'd shown my skill to the main man in charge of back drops and everything else on the stage, he told me I was hired. I was to help paint the backdrops and to help put them together what they needed. So that was what I was doing now - hammering a few planks of wood together for the next show this big old Opera house was going to put on. Unfortunately I couldn't hardly read the playbill they passed around so I didn't know which one was going to go on in the coming month.

Grumbling to myself as I finished what I was doing, I found myself humming out a rather familiar tune but I did my best to keep it low. I didn't dare sing any louder seeing as how I sounded like a dying bird. Plus my cover would be blown. I had to keep my voice on a low tone just to trick these people into thinking I was a man.

That's another thing! Being a man is much safer in these times. When you're a woman, you couldn't do much. As a man? It seemed I had the free range to more things - like physical labor. It was what I was used to and I didn't think I'd be very good at sewing costumes or applying make up. Not that I couldn't learn! But I er, I kind of refused to. I didn't want to get trapped into that.

By the end of the day, I found myself sitting outside with Alfred eating a small, watery portion of a beef stew and stale bread that could only be edible if drowned in the stew. Frowning, but consuming it anyway, I found I already missed my ability to cook what I wanted. I missed the stove. I also missed my shower, shampoos, and lazy clothes. Especially since I'd taken all of it for granted up until now.

"An' he say," Alfred suddenly begins, leaning over, dunking his piece of bread into the soup. "'E say zat you," and he shoves it into his mouth. "Not... terrible. Boison... eh, work."

"Really?" I shoved my portion into my mouth, chewing thoughtfully. "That works. I'll do my best, Alfred." Grinning at him, I leaned against the stairs as I found myself becoming distracted by the sky. The candles outside didn't have much power so I could still see the stars. It was wonderful.

"Ang'eh," Alfred started up again. "'Ave question for you."

"Hm?"

"Où étiez-vous... born?"

"Born?," I mumbled, confused to the other first half of the question. I'd understood 'born' but other than that? Completely lost. However I kind of went along with 'born' as I spoke, "In a place called New Jersey. Not very good but... where I lived was nice." I settle my soup and bread to the side. I begin motioning with my hands; as if painting as I spoke, "It had trees surrounding it, a lake with fish. And a swing. I'd be outside all of the time with my grandfather when the weather was nice."

Soon the conversation dissipated as I felt the shock of sadness hit me. I'd only been gone a few days but I missed being home dearly. I missed my Grandfather. I missed my paints and my sketch books. I missed the stupid evil little monkey that had brought me here. I missed the way my overly bare house would shine with sunlight in the afternoon and become dark as it became night. I just missed home. I missed my time.

Excusing myself, I quickly walked away to try and get my bearings. I found myself in the park after awhile. Sitting there, I quickly leaned back, letting out a puff. I'd been crying. I knew I had been because by the time I sat, I felt red and puffy. Wiping at my eyes, I tried to calm myself.

It wasn't until I came back that I noticed people were buzzing around like bees to fresh water after a hard days work. Apparently an 'accident' had happened in the short time I was away. I kept hearing a few of the ballet rats whispering of a 'fantôme.' A phantom? Really?

Wait- really?

Now that gave me a clue as to why the year seemed familiar to hear about.

I scratched at my chin as I zipped my way away of the buzz of paranoid people. Soon I found myself heading back towards the dressing rooms of the rats - yet it wasn't their dressing room I was trying to get to. No, in fact it was a room with all of the discarded props and clothing. I'd found the room when getting lost to going back to the one I shared with Alfred.

I was only going there because I'd figured that after awhile I might be able to take one of the simpler costumes from the mens section and wear it around instead of the baggy mess Alfred had given me. Pulling out a box of matches that I'd been given by another stagehand, I lit up a few of the candles so I could look around.

At first it was fantastic being able to see all of the costumes. All of the fabrics were well worn, well used, and kept in fairly decent condition after so many uses. Yet even with that excitement, I began to find myself becoming bored. I found myself beginning to sing a song I'd heard in a children's movie, along with the dance I could remember from it. When I began to get towards the end, I was watching myself in a large mirror I'd uncovered in the back of the room. I was grinning like a moron as I got towards the end, moving with the tune.

As I got to the end, I help my hands out to the side, palms down as I met my finish, "- that's how we are, La Siene and I!"

Suddenly a phantom - ha! - clapping began to come from around the room. Expression turning from happy to absolute confusion in a split second, I looked around for the source. Oh god, please don't tell me someone saw that!

"Bravi," came the gentle response to my meep. "Bravi, bravismi."

Eyes wide, I purse my lips as I look around for the voice. Who was doing that? Who was in the room? Were they over the- no. There! Nope.

"Wow," I scratched at my cheek. "Way to be creepy. I mean, impressive, but very creepy, unnamed voice."

The voice seemed to be offended, "Creepy, madame?"

"Er- " That's when I realized the voice was speaking in English to me. Eyes wide, I gaped liked a fish. "You're speaking English! How are you speaking English? No one here speaks it!"

"Of course I am speaking English, I am... a ghost. I know many languages," huffed the voice, golden tone just a tad on the annoyed side now. "You are an American."

"Thank you Captain Obvious," I snorted, trying to pinpoint where the voice was coming from. Where could it be? It seemed to be over my shoulder, then above me... This guy was a ventriloquist or something! "Now where are you? I've been completely alone with nothing but French. I'd like to see a person behind the voice that can speak to me!"

There's a scoff, "Madame, you will hold your tongue and not make such a request again! But, however, you will meet me within this very room tomorrow night. If you do not know French but are going to be working with people who speak it, you will need lessons. You will meet me here at exactly seven o'clock sharp. Is that understood?"

"I-," my mouth opened several times like a fish out of water as I floundered silently for an answer. What the heck was this? Who did this guy think he was! "You're bringing the pen and paper! I'm going to have to make flash cards. I'm a slow learner when it's not music or art."

"Seven. O'clock."

That seemed to be the last thing said before a head poked into the room. A woman in her early thirties put a hand over her heart, sighing in relief. She began to mother hen at me before pushing me out of the room. I tried to protest but the woman was much stronger than myself.

Well...

I wasn't alone anymore, right?

Plus I'd worry about everything after I learned French. Then maybe I wouldn't be snickered at anymore by the other people I worked with! And I'd be able to speak to Alfred better...

Yes, that's what I was going to do. Learn French from a person who hid from sight. A ghost. Even if it did make me a little nervous...