Kaen: Wow. I think I'm shaping up to be the crappiest updater on FF.

Erik: Yes. Yes, you are.

Kaen: *glares* Don't rub it in, Erik-sama. *brightens* But my God, Erik, check out the reviews! I LOVE LOVE LOVE REVIEWS! Erik, will you - ?

Erik: Don't ask, I'm on it! *goes out with roses and homemade chocolate-chip cookies for reviewers, A.K.A AdriaticRose and Maxniss Everide because they're the only ones who have reviewed so far*

Kaen: Damn, he's efficient. And to the ones who've reviewed already, I can't thank you enough. Awesome? Amazing? Fantastic? Evoking shivers/goosebumps? Wow… You have no idea how great your words make me feel. Well, anyway, here's the next chapter. This one introduces the rest of this story's OCs, including one I KNOW you didn't see coming! Enjoy!

Monsieur Firmin looked around at the glamorous-once-more Opera Populaire interior, and was pleased with what he observed. The repair crews had been quite skilled, he had to say, to bring the fire-scarred ruin back to its former splendor, and he admired the utter beauty the restoration had returned to its appearance. His eyes roamed the room, taking it all in, and then he turned his attentions to the flood of performers and workers arriving to fill the opera house and restore it to its former glory. He assumed a pleased expression, as he and Andre jovially greeted both veterans of the theater business and new arrivals.

He tried to lose the feeling that there was likely another, less welcome pair of eyes watching him from the shadows as he greeted Christopher Bertrand, the new chief stagehand – or, as he preferred not to think of him, Joseph Buquet's replacement. Christopher was about thirty-five years old, spoke only French, was deeply religious, and had a rather timid and meek personality; but he had proven himself to be far better at his job than his predecessor.

"C'est un honneur, monsieurs," Christopher said as he shook Firmin's hand. "Je suis privilégié d'être ici."

"C'est un plaisir de vous avoir, mon ami," Firmin replied.

Hopefully, Firmin thought darkly as Christopher went to introduce himself to the other workers, that elegant cross around his neck will repel that demon of an Opera Ghost.

As his thoughts were on the Phantom, he was momentarily frightened when Andre blanched beside him and whispered urgently, "Oh, God…Firmin, look who's just arrived."

Firmin turned, expecting to see the nightmarish figure of the Phantom, and instead seeing a lean, dark ginger haired boy who looked to be around sixteen approaching them. He didn't look threatening, and Firmin was momentarily confused as to Andre's reaction. He was about to ask the reason for his friend's behavior, when he saw the woman beside the boy and immediately understood.

He caught part of what the boy had been saying: " – look quite talented to me, Mother. I see no reason for me to act so condescending."

"Tch. They are all pathetic. You have no competition here, Fabien."

"I won't be trying to compete with – "

"Ah, our managers!"

Firmin noticed Andre surreptitiously bless himself as Carlotta sauntered up to them, with a fake performer's smile plastered on her face, with the serious-looking boy – Fabien, he supposed - striding beside her. He couldn't for the life of him figure out who this boy was.

"Signora," Firmin said, putting on his own smile and working hard to sound pleased. "It is so good to see you again."

"It is good to be back here," Carlotta replied.

"Excellent. Now, might I ask who this young gentleman is?" Firmin asked, gesturing to Fabien, who, Firmin noticed, did not look like he had a very high opinion of them. His vivid green eyes – which seemed even brighter framed by his hair, so dark it was almost auburn, but had just enough red in it to mark it as a shade of ginger – were locked onto Firmin and Andre, appraising them, and it was slightly unnerving to Firmin.

"Oh?" Carlotta said, laying her hand on the boy's shoulder. "This is my son, Fabien."

Firmin hadn't known what he was going to hear regarding Fabien's identity, but it most definitely had not been that. He was struck speechless. Andre was shocked into speech. "Er…your son?"

"Yes, and he's just as talented as his father was," Carlotta purred, not noticing their shock. Fabien picked up on it, though, and Firmin thought he heard a soft chuckle come from the bottom of his throat.

"And, erm, who was his father?" Firmin ventured.

She looked surprised he had asked. "Ubaldo Piangi, of course. Who else?"

"Oh, yes, of course," Firmin said quickly, to hide his confusion.

"And I am sure my boy will be given as many starring roles in the coming performances as his parents did, no?" She looked at the pair before her with narrowed eyes, daring them to say anything otherwise. Oh, Lord, Firmin thought. Just like last time. Like mother, like son.

As Firmin tried to find a good reply, Fabien's eyes narrowed, and he attempted to speak. "But Mother, I – "

"Not now, Fabien," Carlotta cut him off. "I'm going to see if my friend Marianna has arrived yet. Fabien, do what you want for a while."

Fabien's eyes followed her as she left, and when she was out of sight he heaved a deep sigh. "Always so pushy…" he said, half to himself and half to Andre and Firmin. He had only a hint of an Italian accent, unlike his mother. "She wants the best for me, but she won't let me do this on my own, it seems."

Firmin did not say anything to this, still trying to figure out whether Carlotta's claim had been true. Piangi's son? How?

Fabien turned to them again, his intense green eyes trained on Firmin. "You know how she is, don't you?" he said. It wasn't a question. "You've had to deal with her before, correct?"

"Er…" Neither of them were quite sure how to reply to this without sounding offensive.

Fabien picked up on their uncertainty. "All right then, don't answer that. My point is, you know how she pushes to get things done her way. Well, I don't want that to happen when it comes to me."

"O-Of course," Firmin said, a little surprised that Fabien apparently did not take after his mother.

"I don't want to sound arrogant," Fabien went on. "But I do have great talent when it comes to this art. And I want to know that if I do well here, it's because of that, because of my own talent, and not because of my mother's influence. If she tries to pressure you into giving me a good role just because I'm her son, do not let her," Fabien said, with heavy emphasis on the last four words. "I want to be able to do these things myself, without any…help…from my mother. Do you understand?"

"Yes, yes, of course," Firmin agreed, with similar words of assent coming from Andre. He was beginning to like the boy, mainly because he seemed like the exact opposite of his mother.

Fabien's expression couldn't exactly be called a smile, but it was fairly close. "Thank you, monsieurs," he said. "I look forward to working here." And with that, Fabien turned and strode away.

"He doesn't seem too bad," Firmin remarked.

"He didn't seem very happy, though," Andre noted with concern.

"Andre, he lives with Carlotta. What other reason does he need to be unhappy?"

"Oh. Firmin," Andre said. "Do you think…it was true?"

Firmin didn't have to ask what Andre was talking about. "If Piangi really was his father? I don't know. But it doesn't seem too probable to me."

"Oh, it's true, monsieur," said a rough voice. Firmin turned to see that its owner was a grinning stagehand, named Etienne, Firmin remembered.

"Really?" Andre said skeptically. "How do you know?"

"Well, nobody can prove it, but the rumor going around is that the boy was…ah…conceived – " Etienne wagged his eyebrows suggestively as he said this, "– right before the performance of Don Juan. Understand?"

Firmin nodded quickly, he understood and did not need or want any more clarification.

"Anyway, no one knows for sure if it's really true or not, but I personally don't think either Carlotta or her boy have got reason to lie. It's actually quite possible, if you think about it."

Someone called Etienne's name from the stage area. "Well, I'll see you," he said, and left in the direction of the voice.

Firmin and Andre looked at each other. So it could be true.

"Poor boy," Andre remarked. "Growing up with his father dead long before he was even born."

The boy hadn't smiled once, Firmin remembered. He thought back on their brief conversation, and realized that Fabien had had a solemn, somewhat troubled appearance, and the bright, burning intensity never left his eyes. "He never smiled. Not once."

"Do you mean Fabien Giudicelli?"

Firmin turned and saw that the speaker was a slim girl with curly blond hair and concerned brown eyes. "Er…yes," he said. "Do you know him?"

"Not really," the girl admitted. "But he lives near me, and I see him occasionally. He never looks very happy. Not at all."

"I see," Firmin said. "Well, perhaps being able to perform here will cheer him up. At least, that's the impression I got while speaking with him."

The girl smiled. "Yes, this will probably be good for him."

Firmin frowned. "Pardon me, mademoiselle, but you remind me of someone. I just can't put my finger on who."

"Oh?" the girl said, looking slightly puzzled. Just then, what might have turned into an awkward silence was broken by another girl's voice.

"Jacqueline! There you are!" A slender girl with bright cerulean eyes and wavy brown hair came to stand at the blond girl's side. "I told you, stop running off on me! I can't keep up with you if you're darting all over the place."

"Oh, is that what you were trying to say before?" the blond girl said, the beginnings of a smile pulling at the corners of her mouth.

"Yes, but you were gone before I could even finish," the brunette said, crossing her arms and trying to look displeased, but the light of excitement in her eyes contradicted that. Suddenly Firmin realized why the two girls had seemed familiar to him.

"Pardon my asking," he said, addressing the brunette girl, "but you wouldn't happen to know Christine Daae, would you?"

The brunette smiled. "She's my mother," she explained. "My name is Alia."

"Ah, you're her daughter!" Andre said brightly. Alia nodded.

"And I'm Jacqueline Giry," the blond girl said. "I think you knew both my mother and my grandmother, right?"

"Yes, we remember your mother," Andre said. "One of the best dancers we'd seen. Yours too," he added to Alia.

"As for your grandmother…well, we had to admire her," Firmin said. "If nothing else, she garnered everyone's respect."

Jacqueline smiled. "Oh, I've seen that. My father and my brother Dominic have experienced it more than any of us."

"By the way, I think it's wonderful that your mother's taking over the position of ballet mistress. I'm told she's taught dance at several other places as well. I think she will do her job perfectly."

"Oh, yes, she's excellent. And perhaps it will run in the family!" said Jacqueline.

"And your mother?" Firmin asked Alia. "Is she doing well?"

"Oh, yes," Alia said. "She's told me so much about this place. I think I'm going to love it!"

"So has my mother, and my father too," Jacqueline said. At the slightly puzzled looks from Andre and Firmin at the last few words, she explained, "Father was a flutist with the orchestra here when it was open last time. He's excellent at it, but it's not likely you'd have noticed him."

"Ah. Well," Firmin said. "Do either of you take after your parents?"

"Oh, yes, especially Alia," Jacqueline said brightly, gesturing to her friend. "She's a pretty skillful dancer, and aside from her mother, she sings better than anyone I've heard before. Just like her mother," Jacqueline added with a smirk in Alia's direction.

"Stop that," said Alia, half-heartedly slapping Jacqueline's arm. "Like I've said again and again, I am not exactly like my mother! If anything, you and Dominic fit that description." She paused, again finding it impossible to get upset. She turned back to Jacqueline, and said quietly, "Do you really think I'm that good of a singer?"

"Of course!" said Jacqueline. "I wouldn't have said it if it wasn't true!" She turned to Andre and Firmin. "Alia's got a bit of a shyness problem." Ignoring Alia's protests and denial, she went on. "But trust me; you'll be glad to have her here."

"And you too!" Alia said. "You're the best dancer I know, and you and Dominic both have such sweet singing voices. You're just as good as I am, don't sell yourself short!"

"I suppose so," Jacqueline said, but didn't sound as though she meant it. "Speaking of Dominic, didn't he want us to meet back up with him soon?"

"Yes, by the stage," Alia answered. She turned to Andre and Firmin. "We need to go. It was nice to meet you both." Jacqueline nodded in agreement.

"Au revoir, mademoiselles," Andre said. "It was lovely meeting you too."

"I do look forward to seeing the two of you perform," Firmin said.

Alia smiled and thanked them, then the girls ran off toward the stage area, with Jacqueline pulling Alia by her wrist despite the fact that they were going at more or less the same pace.

Firmin looked to Andre and grinned. "I believe we have another rising star and prima ballerina in those two," he said. "I really am looking forward to seeing how they turn out."

~0~

She's so excited, Alia thought as Jacqueline half-dragged, half-led her to the stage to find Dominic, chattering happily the whole way. But I can hardly blame her, I am too! She remembered the stories her mother had told her about living and performing here when she was Alia's age. Her father hadn't said much about it, though he would occasionally give his opinion on certain performances or a part of the building's design he had liked. She had to say, she liked Maman's stories better. Papa wasn't much of a storyteller.

Jacqueline pulled her over to a pile of wooden crates on the far left side of the stage. She stopped talking for a moment to look around for her brother, and then huffed and sat down on one of the crates when he was nowhere to be seen. "Ugh!" she complained. "What's the matter with Dominic? Telling us to meet him and then not showing up for us. Just like a boy."

Alia grinned at her friend's hyper, overly enthusiastic, slightly mercurial personality. "You only think that because he's your brother," she said, sitting down beside Jacqueline.

"And your opinion differs from mine because you don't have to live with him."

"True," Alia said. "And I'll admit, he can be quite irritating sometimes."

"Now, really, 'Lia," began a calm voice from beside the girls. Its owner, none other than Dominic, took the last few steps over to his sister and friend. He shook his head at Alia in mock disapproval. "I would expect better from a lady of your status."

Jacqueline narrowed her eyes at him. "And I would expect you not to keep us waiting."

Dominic raised his eyebrows, which were an even lighter blond than his hair. "I only got here about a minute after you did. Father just wanted to introduce me to some of the other returning orchestra members. No need to get so bent out of shape over nothing."

"I am not! Alia, am I – " Jacqueline was cut short by Alia nodding and trying to suppress a smile. She huffed in annoyance.

"It really shouldn't be much of an issue for you, me just stopping to meet some of the people who will be my coworkers in the near future," Dominic said. "Don't you want to get to know some of the other dancers?"

"Well, some of them we haven't met," Alia explained, "a couple of them were friendly, and the rest didn't seem to want to talk with us."

"Ah. Well, the people I talked with seemed just fine to me."

"Dominic Giry," Jacqueline said warningly, "don't you dare us that as an excuse to start in on how you think your choices of work here are superior to ours."

Dominic smirked. He had always thought the music was the most important part of a show (mostly because he was an aspiring flutist, like his father, and pianist, which was new to his family. He didn't care much for dancing, although he had a decent singing voice and was a very good actor if he put his mind to it) and he frequently teased his sister about it. Even now, he couldn't resist.

"Well, I do think I'm better off in the orchestra pit, where hardly anyone notices me," he said, a devilish smile growing on his face. If I make a small mistake, nobody sees me, whereas if you make a mistake everyone will see you fall flat on your face onstage."

Jacqueline made a noise like an angry cat and swatted her hand angrily at her brother, who hopped back just in time to avoid getting smacked. "You know that's not true!" Jacqueline said. "Your mistake will be noticed just as mine would. Stop acting like you do everything better."

"Well, I am older," Dominic said, grinning.

Jacqueline threw up her hands in aggravation. "We're twins! We're the same age! How many times do I have to tell you before it gets through your thick head!"

"Ah, no, we're not the same; I am a full twenty minutes older than you."

"I…I give up."

"So," Alia said, hoping to dissolve the siblings' argument. "How do you like this place, Dominic?"

Dominic smiled. "I love it so far. I think we're in for a good time here. Hard work too, as Grandmother would no doubt add, but a good time nonetheless. What do you two like best about it?"

Alia had to think about that for a second, to find the right words to describe her feelings. "The potential for so many things to happen," she said. "Jacqueline and I can perform before a greater amount of people than we've ever done before, and we can improve our talents more. So will you. And just about anything else could happen!"

"Never thought about it like that before," said Dominic, looking thoughtful. "I like the idea. So, what about you, Jacqueline?"

Jacqueline went slightly pink in the face. "Er…the same thing as Alia, I suppose. And I do look forward to meeting all the different people."

Dominic raised one eyebrow, knowing that this was probably not the true answer, but Jacqueline didn't want to say it around him. "All right," he said. "I'm going to go see what the other parts of the place are like. You two be careful, now," he added, smirking.

"Oh, dear, Dominic, is my father rubbing off on you?" Alia teased. Dominic laughed, then turned and headed off.

As soon as Dominic was out of sight, Alia turned quickly to Jacqueline. "So tell me the truth: What are you liking best about all this?"

Jacqueline leaned closer to her and said softly, "All the handsome boys I've seen!"

Alia sighed. "Really, Jacqueline?"

"Well, don't tell me you haven't noticed any of them too! Have you noticed that a lot of the newcomers are around sixteen or seventeen, give or take a year or two? And a lot of the boys are so good-looking." Jacqueline sighed dreamily.

"So let me get this straight – you like being here mainly because of the idea that you can be around good-looking boys."

"It's a great thought, isn't it?" Jacqueline said. "And some of them are from very high-class families. Like you, 'Lia!" she added as an afterthought, evoking a small sigh from Alia, who didn't much like being judged by her family's status. "There's this one I heard some other girls talking about…from what they said, he sounds really nice. And handsome, too."

"Oh, really? Might I ask who?"

"Um…I didn't catch his first name. I think his surname's Renard or Renvoire or something."

Alia's eyes widened when she heard the name, and memories from almost ten years ago rushed back to her, memories of a young boy with kind brown eyes and a bright smile. Renard…It couldn't be…Gabriel? Is Gabriel here?

Jacqueline didn't notice Alia's surprise, and kept right on talking. "But I don't think I'm interested in him right now, though maybe I could get to know him and some others. I…think I prefer someone else." Her eyes roved to the other side of the stage, fixing on an almost bored-looking boy with very dark ginger hair. "That's Fabien. Remember that boy I told you about once?" she said to Alia, subtly gesturing to him. "Isn't he handsome?"

Alia studied the boy. She had to admit, he was quite attractive. But he didn't look like the kind of person that would involve himself in any kind of relationship. She voiced this opinion to Jacqueline, and she frowned a little.

"I know," she said. "He doesn't seem very outgoing. In fact, whenever I see him, I get the impression that…he's existing in a separate world, and only half-living in the real one. Coming out partially, occasionally, but he's usually so distant. I don't really think he's been around other people much. Though maybe experience will get him to…open up a bit. Or maybe he'll try to himself! You know, try and be a little friendlier. You can see the potential for a relationship after that, right?"

"…Maybe," Alia allowed, wondering what it was exactly that Jacqueline saw in this boy.

"I really think I'd like to get to know him…if I wasn't too nervous to – !" Jacqueline made a tiny yelping noise in her throat, then hastily turned and left in the direction Dominic had gone. Alia was left completely confused as to her friend's odd behavior for a moment, until she looked up and saw the ginger-haired boy, Fabien, approaching.

"Hello," he said. Alia, standing up and returning the greeting, thought he had a soft, smooth voice. "Is your friend okay?" he asked, glancing in the direction Jacqueline had gone.

"Oh, yes, she's fine. She…just heard her brother calling her," Alia covered for her friend.

Fabien looked as though he wasn't completely convinced by this, but let it go. "You're Alia de Chagny, right?" At a nod from Alia, he continued, "I'm Fabien Giudicelli. I hear you're talented."

Alia hoped she wasn't blushing. She knew she was exceptionally talented, but she usually shied away from talking about it. "Well…everyone says I am."

"You don't like talking about it either?" Fabien said, appearing pleased. "It's good to know I'm not the only one," he explained. "It's awkward when people want me to talk about my own talent. I just don't want to sound like my mother. But people will always connect me with her anyway, no matter what I'm like."

Alia remembered Maman telling her about Fabien's mother once. Papa had just grinned, trying not to laugh, though neither of them had known about Fabien. She understood Fabien's worry.

"I know what you mean. Whenever people see me or hear me, they'll always think of my mother, too."

Fabien nodded. "Sometimes that's good, other times…not at all. You seem like a nice girl, and please don't be offended, but the only reason I came to talk to you was because you're your mother's daughter." He paused and looked up at her concernedly.

"It's all right, I know," she said, assuring him that he had not mistakenly insulted her.

"Good." Fabien glanced over his shoulder. "And speaking of mothers, I don't think ours like each other very much." Seeing Alia's slightly confused expression, he gestured into the crowd of people, which was now beginning to separate into small groups. He pointed first to Alia's mother, standing close to her father, and then a short distance away to an older woman with ginger hair like Fabien's, only much, much lighter. The two women had just noticed each other, and they exchanged hostile glares, and then turned back to what they had been doing. Fabien turned to Alia. "See what I mean?"

"You're right…" Alia said. "Why do I get the feeling they'll expect us to be rivals?"

"Because it's likely they will," Fabien replied, sighing. "At least mine will. Yours doesn't seem like the kind that will do that."

"No, probably not." Alia raised an eyebrow at him. "So, are you going to go along with it, or not?"

Fabien looked like he was weighing his options. Alia couldn't decide whether it was genuine or not until he spoke. "Well, perhaps. But not the way she expects. I'm thinking more of the friendly kind of rival. Does that make sense?"

Alia smiled. "I think so."

"Good," Fabien said. "I don't want to be cruel to you, or to anyone else for that matter, but I don't want to come off as a pushover either. According to Mother, I have a family reputation to uphold." Unlike the other times he'd talked about what his mother expected of him, this time Fabien looked as if he agreed.

"Everyone tells me I get my talent from my parents, you see. My father was great, I'm told. My mother as well…when she was my age, a long time ago," he explained, a smirk spreading across his face at the last few words. "If my talent is inherited, I just hope it comes from my father. And if not…" He glanced back at his mother again. "I only hope I'll have enough sense to know when I'm so far gone that my voice causes people physical discomfort." He shrugged. "Personally, I think Mother only dislikes your family because she's jealous. A word of warning – You're going to have to learn to deal with unfriendly competition very quickly."

"C'est la vie, I suppose," Alia said, although the idea slightly unnerved her. "Maybe I could ask my mother for help with that."

"That's a good idea. I think – " Fabien was cut off by a shrill call of his name, and he grimaced. "Damn it," he muttered. "Mother saw me." He looked apologetically at Alia. "I should go. But I have to say, it was nice meeting you."

"Nice meeting you, too," Alia said. She could see why Jacqueline liked him; he seemed like a smart, well-mannered boy, as well as a handsome one.

Fabien turned and took a few steps away, then stopped and turned back to Alia, wearing a different expression that she couldn't quite name. "Your friend from before," he asked slowly. "What's her name?"

"Jacqueline. Her name's Jacqueline."

"Jacqueline…" Fabien said the name carefully, trying out the sound. "I like that name." Then he turned and walked off.

Alia briefly wondered what to do, now that she had been left alone, and then smiled as the obvious answer came to her. Jacqueline had mentioned a boy she was fairly sure she had known. Whether he was actually here or not didn't matter. She had to at least try to find her childhood friend, didn't she? The thought of seeing Gabriel again after nearly ten years excited her beyond belief. As she ventured into the throng of people, she could almost see his bright smile.

~0~

How beautiful she's become, thought Gabriel Renard. Perhaps his first thought after laying eyes on Alia de Chagny after so long should have been more meaningful, but who can decide what thoughts fly into their heads, seemingly of their own accord? How beautiful.

At first he could only stare, frozen, amazed at how the shy little girl he'd remembered had blossomed into this lovely, graceful young woman. Smooth, deep brown hair that fell in perfect waves to just past her shoulder blades. Blue eyes, very different from her father's, much lighter and kinder, like the sky on a perfect, blissful day. A slender, petite dancer's body. One thing hadn't seemed to have changed – her sweet, good-natured disposition.

She hadn't noticed him yet – she was carrying on a conversation with a girl a little older than her at the moment – but he had heard she was here with her family, and the people he had asked about her had pointed him over here. He had been worried he wouldn't recognize her now, but he shouldn't have worried, there was no mistaking her. The problem was, would she recognize him? Would she even remember her old playmate? He smiled a little as he remembered the last time they had seen each other, when Alia had been six years old and he had been seven. She had had the same fear: that if they ever saw each other again after Gabriel had to move away, they would have changed too much to recognize each other. But his practical little companion had thought of a solution to their dilemma that had sounded just perfect to his seven-year-old ears.

Gabriel's right hand tightened around the small necklace she had given him that day. If they met again, she had said, he could give her back the necklace and she would know it was him. He had thought of her very often since they had been separated, and he'd played out their reunion in his head countless times. He knew what he was going to do and say, but there was always a different reaction from Alia. And now she was right there, but his mind was blank. He couldn't predict what she would say or do now, or if she'd even remember him even with the necklace. It worried him still. In fact, he was almost a little nervous about their reunion. But the other girl had gone, and Alia was by herself. If he was going to talk to her, it had to be now. Clutching the necklace in his hand, he made his way up to Alia.

"Pardon me, mademoiselle," he said, and she turned around and looked at him curiously. He couldn't hold back a smile as he held out the necklace. "I believe this is yours."

She took it from him slowly, studying it carefully in her hand, running her fingers over the pale blue and floral white diamond-shaped beads. Gabriel had only a few moments to wonder what she was thinking, before her face broke into an elated smile, and she threw her arms around him. "Gabriel!"

Gabriel's grin broadened as he wrapped his arms around her in response. "Yes," he murmured, happiness starting to glow in him. Why, he thought now, should he have worried? Alia pulled back and smiled at him, looking delighted.

"I'm so glad to see you again, Gabriel," she said. "But what are you doing here?"

"You remember we had to move because my mother was sick, and we had to go somewhere better for her?" Gabriel said, and he continued when Alia nodded. "Well, she died a few years later, despite that."

"Oh, Gabriel, I'm sorry," Alia said softly.

"It's all right," he assured her. "I don't remember much of it. But anyway, my father and I both missed our old home, but we did like our new one, and according to Father, there were good opportunities for him there. So he decided we would stay. But I always wanted to come back here. And when we heard that this opera house was being reopened, I was able to convince Father to come back to Paris, so I could involve myself here. I never expected to find you here, though!"

Alia smiled. "I didn't think I'd see you here either." She glanced down at the necklace in her hand, running her thumb over it. "You took good care of this, didn't you?"

"It was all I had to remember you by."

"Thank you," she said, grinning up at him. "Although it's a bit too small to be a necklace for me now…" She considered this for a moment, and then slipped the necklace around her wrist as a bracelet. "There! That's better."

"Perfect fit," Gabriel agreed. "It still looks lovely on you."

"Thanks," Alia said. "So tell me, Gabriel…How have you been? You tell me about your life now and I'll tell you about mine. We've got ten years' worth of stories to tell, you know."

Gabriel grinned. "All right, we'll share our stories, then." As Alia, already talking, took his wrist and led him to a less populated part of the room where they could speak in relative privacy, Gabriel realized just how happy he was to be reunited with his childhood best friend.

~0~

Alia could hardly believe she was seeing her old friend here, of all places. During the ten or so minutes that they talked, he'd shown her how his singing voice had improved, which was why he'd wanted to be here in the first place. When they were children, he'd sang like a mouse with a sore throat. Now his voice was strong and sweet, and she liked it a lot. She also marveled at the other physical changes that had occurred. The short-haired, rangy boy she'd remembered had matured into a tall, stocky, confident young man. Not to mention a handsome-looking one. His dark walnut-colored hair had grown longer, and he kept it pulled back in a short ponytail, and he'd developed a more pronounced olive complexion.

Then again, he still retained the best qualities she'd remembered from their childhood. He was still the calm, intelligent and friendly boy she'd met as a little girl. And his smile would always be the same. She was overjoyed at the fact that they'd be able to continue their friendship.

"Alia!" she heard someone call her name. She turned around and saw Jacqueline trotting up to them.

"Jacqueline? What is it?"

"The managers want everybody to gather at the stage area. Some kind of opening address or something. Anyway, you and…er…" Jacqueline broke off, her eyes flicking nervously from Gabriel to Alia to the floor and back.

"Gabriel, this is Jacqueline Giry. Jacqueline, this is Gabriel Renard," Alia said, smiling at her friend's shocked reaction. "We were good friends when we were children," she explained.

"Oh!" Jacqueline said, unsure of how to respond. "It's a pleasure to meet you, monsieur."

"The pleasure is all mine, mademoiselle," Gabriel said. "Alia's told me a lot about you."

Jacqueline shot Alia a glance that clearly said, "What did you tell him?", but before Alia could reassure her that everything she had said about her was good, Gabriel spoke up.

"It sounds to me like you've been a very good friend," he said. "Alia speaks very highly of you."

Jacqueline promptly flushed crimson and giggled nervously, looking down at the floor, and Alia mentally sighed at her friend's apparent inability to compose herself around good-looking boys. Hopefully, she'd get over it soon. "If they need everyone, then we should go," she said, to avert an awkward situation. Gesturing for Gabriel and Jacqueline to follow her, she strode off for where she and Jacqueline had been sitting earlier. This, she felt, was going to get interesting.

~0~

"I won't be seen," Luc assured his brother, for what seemed like the thousandth time. Despite the fact that Erik had taught him nearly everything he knew, he still worried about his safety. Luc understood that, to some extent, but Erik had never had any fear for himself when he had done this himself. Luc had developed that same confidence in his own skill. "Trust me," he said, extending his hand.

Erik still looked doubtful, but he wordlessly handed Luc his note. This would be more difficult now, Erik had told him before they had gone topside, now that Madame Giry was not there to deliver his notes anymore and they had to do it themselves. But Luc didn't worry. Erik had taught him how to navigate all areas of the opera house, as it was necessary to learn if one was going to live there like Erik did, and Luc had run through the catwalks above the stage many times, with Erik or on his own. The fact that all those other times the opera house had been deserted with no one but Erik to see him, and that this time was very, very different, meant little to him. He was perfectly capable of this.

"Remember, Luc," Erik said softly. "You go in, you drop the note, and then you get back here."

"I know," Luc said. "Don't worry, brother, it won't take ten seconds." With that, Luc crept out and approached the highest catwalk. He went slowly at first, and then broke out into a quick, controlled sprint onto the catwalk. The wood would support his weight easily; the scent of newness still emanated faintly from it. Luc knew he made no noise. He had adopted his brother's habit of silent movement, wherever he went. He made his way to the middle of the catwalk on velvet steps; ghostlike, some would say, he thought with a smirk.

He let the sealed envelope fall from his fingers in a perfect position. It would float down right in front of the two managers, who looked to him as pompous and foolish as Erik had described them, but by the time anyone realized what was happening, he and his brother would be gone. He turned around and bolted silently back the way he had come, and he glanced back just to see if there was any reaction yet. To his surprise, he saw a pair of deep brown eyes lock with his.

Damn, he thought, inwardly grimacing at the realization that he had been spotted. Then his mind put a name to the face, and he smiled. You won't tell, will you, Meg? Erik's old friend and sister figure to them both had offered to help the pair the way her mother had, but Erik hadn't wanted her to. She had a family of her own to take care of and enough to worry about without helping them as well. Besides, thought Luc, Erik's always got me for that.

"Let's go," Luc whispered when he got back to Erik, slipping into a small, unused back room and pushing back a small part of the wall. He ducked through the newly made entrance, hearing the quiet sounds of Erik following him, and strode quickly back down to their underground home.

~0~

"…And I hope that we will enjoy much success in this new season of business at the Opera Populaire," Firmin finished, grinning at the flurry of approving sounds from the listening people that followed it. However, the grin dropped quickly from his face as a small movement caught his eye, and he looked up to see the small envelope drifting serenely down from above.

His expression a mixture of shock and horror, Firmin half-consciously reached up and caught the envelope in his hand. The crimson wax skull sealing it left no room for questions as to who it had been sent by. Firmin heard Andre gulp.

"It's a note from the Opera Ghost," he said, his voice shaking slightly, causing alarmed exclamations and whispers from the surrounding people. Firmin looked up to assess the condition of his workers and performers, and his eyes lighted on Fabien. He was surprised to see the change in the boy's disposition. The formerly calm and reserved boy now looked positively menacing as he glared upwards, his emerald eyes blazing and his lips curled into a snarl. He looked furious, and Firmin wondered if his anger was directed at the Phantom.

He turned his attention back to the envelope. Unnerved by the sightless 'eyes' in the skull-shaped seal staring at him, he hurriedly opened it and withdrew the note inside. He read it out loud,

"Fondest greetings to you all. I welcome you all back to the Opera Populaire, and I trust that the running of my theater will go more smoothly than before. I fear you have seen far too much of what can and will happen, should my wrath be aroused. But I can be flexible. I am certain my managers have already been informed that I will not cause any deliberate harm, but only under certain conditions…"

Firmin glanced in the general direction of the de Chagnys. The Vicomte, who had brought him the news that the Phantom was still alive but did not intend to harm anybody so long as his conditions were filled, was only half-listening; his main focus was on his family, with one arm wrapped around his wife's shoulders and the other around his daughter's midsection, keeping them close and safe while his eyes searched the catwalks. The former Miss Daae was doing the same, though (surprisingly, he thought) she looked far less apprehensive. Alia didn't look frightened or nervous at all, merely curious. Firmin thought she seemed more interested in what the note said than the man who had written it. He turned back to the paper and continued to read.

"…First, you must know that I am far more experienced and knowledgeable when it comes to the arts than the pair currently running my theater, who I now address. I ask that you acknowledge that, and accept my well-meant advice without letting pride get in your way. This also means that my salary is to be paid. This, if you recall, was the original cause of my anger, so I do not expect this mistake to be repeated. I assure you though; you are not wasting your money for nothing. The advice I give is meant to improve a performance. A side effect of that is that better shows mean more profit to gain from it, you understand; not to mention you'll also be maintaining your safety. However, I feel that the pair of you may need further persuasion, so I am willing to lower the price of my compliance to 15,000 francs. I only hope you will have enough sense to obey this time. Second, if I have resolved not to harm anyone, I must not be disturbed either. Believe me when I say that if you try to find me, it will not turn out well for you. I sincerely promise you that. And I think that this is a good time to make you aware that I am not alone now. Yes, I'd like to make the existence of my apprentice known. I have taught him to do everything I can do, and if I do not see or hear something, he will. And you should know that he does not take well to being attacked, and he is the revengeful type. You do not want to evoke his anger any more than mine, so you would do well to keep away from us. Now, as long as these conditions are met, there need be no trouble between us and you. I trust you will have the sense to do what is best. I remain, gentlemen, your obedient servant – O.G."

Firmin gulped as he finished reading. The Phantom's apprentice?

"Two of them," he said, thoroughly unnerved. "Andre," he said in a low voice to his partner. "We're going to have to do as he says, aren't we?"

Andre nodded quickly. "No point in bringing on another disaster," he agreed. "Perhaps we'll be safe this time."

~0~

What is he doing? Gabriel wondered, pushing open the door to a currently deserted part of the opera house and venturing inside. He was sure he had seen Fabien storm off this way. He had met the boy close to a year ago, and they'd become relatively good friends. Perhaps this had to do with what always seemed to be troubling him.

Gabriel heard noise and movement somewhere to his left. He pushed aside some crates and ducked under rope-laden wooden beams, and then caught sight of his red-haired friend in a fairly shadowy corner of the room. Even his breathing sounded harsh and angry. "Fabien?" Gabriel said quietly, and Fabien whipped around, startled.

"Gabriel?" he said, confused. "What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same thing, my friend." Gabriel stepped closer to him. "What's the matter? Are you all right?"

Fabien looked at the ground. "Fine," he ground out.

Gabriel frowned. "I don't think so."

"What makes you think that?" Fabien said sharply. "I'm all right, Gabriel, no need to ask me – "

"The meaning behind what you were saying earlier?"

Fabien's head whipped back to face Gabriel, and Gabriel knew he knew he was caught.

When the managers had mentioned the infamous Opera Ghost before, it had seemed to ignite something in Fabien. Gabriel remembered clearly the look or pure rage in his eyes as he glared up at the catwalks, searching for a glimpse of the Phantom. But what had disturbed Gabriel the most was what he had heard Fabien hissing under his breath, so quietly that only Gabriel and his mother (who had stood on either side of him) could hear.

"Dove sei…? Vigliacco, vieni fuori così posso ucciderti," Gabriel repeated Fabien's words softly. "Did you forget I understand Italian? Did you not want me to hear that, Fabien? We both know what it means."

Fabien grimaced, and Gabriel knew the translation was running through his mind as well: Where are you…? You coward, come out so I can kill you.

"So, Fabien?" Gabriel said. "Care to explain?" He kept his voice casual, but worry for the younger boy was growing in him.

Fabien kept up his hard glare for a minute, then gave in, closing his eyes and letting out a deep breath. "All right," he said, "but you're my closest friend, Gabriel. If I am to tell you what I've been keeping hidden, I need your word that you will not reveal it to anyone. You cannot even tell my mother I told you. Please?"

Gabriel deliberated for a moment, and then solemnly nodded his head.

Fabien looked calmer now, but it seemed to Gabriel that he had never appeared so intense before. "You know what happened here last time, right? Specifically, what happened to my parents?"

Gabriel nodded again. "There were murders. Your father was killed," he said, hoping his quiet words would not evoke pain in his friend.

"Yes," Fabien said, his voice soft and dark. "Father died…and left Mother alone with me. I grew up never knowing my father, and knowing that he'd never even know I existed. I'd lost my father before I was even born…" Fabien paused, his gaze turning downward. Gabriel saw something flash in his bright green eyes. Was it pain?

"I understand," Gabriel said softly, as faint memories of his mother came up to remind him of his own childhood loss.

Fabien looked up, staring Gabriel in the eyes. "I know. You told me about your mother…you understand. You know how it hurts…I think some people would think it's not as bad, losing a parent, if you didn't even know each other…but they'd be wrong. It did hurt…badly…For both Mother and for me."

Gabriel said nothing (what was there to say?), but he was beginning to understand where Fabien was going with this, and he didn't think he liked it.

Fabien continued. "I was around six years old when I finally decided to ask Mother why every other child I'd met had a father, and I had been left without one. She told me everything and I was left stunned and upset…and with a desire to somehow get back at my father's murderer. I didn't understand how that was going to happen at that age, of course, but…"

Gabriel's stomach dropped. He knew what was coming. "Fabien…"

"…I know now," Fabien said softly. He pulled back his jacket slightly, revealing a small sheath on his belt, from which he pulled out a gleaming nine-inch knife. "I didn't come here just to pursue a career, Gabriel," he said. "Mother wanted me to do that as well, but we're here - I'm here for another reason, one that's entirely personal…"

"You want to kill him," Gabriel breathed.

"Yes, that's right. To avenge my father's death."

"But, Fabien, think about what you want to do," Gabriel said earnestly. "You're thinking about hunting down and killing the Phantom of the Opera. That's got to be impossible. An entire mob went after him all those years ago, including a group of armed gendarmes, and he survived. What makes you think you can go after him alone?"

"Because I've been trained to," Fabien said, running his thumb along the silvery surface of the blade. "I know how to use this, and more. Those others, they didn't have their hearts in what they were doing. For me…It's a purpose I've given myself."

"If your purpose is to live a life of revenge, then once you've got it what do you have left?"

"Doesn't matter," Fabien said. He fixed Gabriel with a sharp stare. "Gabriel, don't try to talk me out of this. Put yourself in my position, maybe. What if it hadn't been disease that destroyed your mother? What if something living and conscious of its actions had done that to her? Wouldn't you want to make it pay for hurting you so badly? And you spent most of your life thinking about it, always dwelling on it – on the need to take vengeance on it for your pain and the pain of your loved ones?"

Gabriel swallowed hard. He didn't like to admit it, but he could see the point in Fabien's words. He remembered his mother, just before she died. His memories were vague and blurry, but he remembered how she had been. Frail and sick, her condition rapidly deteriorating, with only a trace of her former beauty left, and even her smile had been full of pain. "Yes…I would. It's not something to forgive, is it?" he said slowly.

"No," Fabien said with finality. "Never. And, Gabriel, remember you cannot tell anyone of this. I wouldn't want word of my intentions to reach that monster. You can imagine how badly that might turn out to be."

"You have my word," Gabriel promised. "And besides, you're the one with the knife here. I'm not really in a position to disagree."

Fabien looked surprised at his words. "Gabriel, I wouldn't harm you!" he said. "I don't intend to hurt anyone else. Why would I want to? The Phantom is my only target, though I wouldn't hesitate to go after his apprentice too." He flipped the knife in his hand. "But I wouldn't use this on anybody else. No one but them deserves it."

"But you intend to become a killer," Gabriel said softly.

"No," Fabien disagreed. "An avenger, that's all I am." He eyed the knife again. "That monster killed my father. I'm just going to return the favor."

~0~

Almost as soon as they made it back home, Erik turned his head and demanded of his brother, "Were you seen?"

Luc smirked, remembering Meg. "Yes," he said flippantly.

"What?" Erik shouted, whipping around with a look of surprise and anger on his face.

"Calm down, brother," Luc said quickly, raising his hand. "It was just Meg."

Erik visibly relaxed, but a trace of irritation remained. "Don't do that, Luc," he growled.

"Don't do what?" Luc said, his smirk broadening. He was trying his luck, he knew, but it was a bit hard to resist. "You asked me a question, and I gave an honest answer. What's wrong?"

As he expected, Erik remained silent, and just glared; but Luc knew he wasn't upset with him. "I'm going to rest for a while," he said. "Running around all day amid all that brightness and color and noise…I think I need a little peaceful darkness."

At a nod from Erik, Luc turned, ducked under the dark blue curtain that hung to his left, and walked into his bedroom, his footsteps against the stone floor making only the smallest of noises. His room was simple, to his mind. The bed stood on the left side, opposite the bookcase, with the small chest that held some of his possessions at the foot of it. His sword lay on top of the chest, gleaming in the light from the burning candle on the table at the far end of the room. Luc strode over to the desk, looking over the many compositions that littered its surface, then to the baby grand piano that dominated the far left corner. He absently ran his fingers over the keys, improvising a short melody, before sitting down on his bed.

His eyes turned to his journal, which he'd left lying on the pillow. Today was one of the most eventful in his life, and it was best to write things down while they were fresh in your mind. But where was he supposed to start? With him and Erik watching from above as all those people poured in? With Erik's descriptions of those he recognized and remembered, or Luc's own thoughts on them? With the subtle changes he had noticed that the restoration crew had made? With his note-delivering escapade on the catwalks? With the people that had made an impression on him? Or… Luc bit his lip, almost embarrassed to think about it. One of the greatest impressions that had been made on him had been of Jacqueline's friend – the de Chagnys' daughter.

He knew Meg well – her mother tolerated him, but Meg had genuinely liked him right from when they'd first met, when he was eight, and he considered her a good friend – but neither he nor Erik had ever met her children. It didn't matter much, though; they were fine keeping it that way. Meg had kept up her relationship with Luc and Erik, but kept it secret from her family. She'd been eager to tell Luc and Erik all about them, though, and Luc knew a little bit about them. But he barely knew anything about the gorgeous girl that for a reason he couldn't fathom he couldn't get his mind off of. While watching her, he'd disregarded his opinion of her parents and focused on her alone. He hadn't heard her speak, but from her actions, she'd seemed like a lovely girl; sweet and friendly as well as pretty. Maybe she took after her mother.

Luc sighed and lay back on the bed, his arms crossed behind his head. It had been an exciting day, but an exhausting one. He wasn't used to this much activity. He slowly let his eyelids close, resolving to sort out and record his thoughts in the morning, and let his tired body and mind pull him into the darkness of a dreamless sleep.

~0~

Kaen: Whew, this chapter was a bear to write. But at least all of the main OCs have been introduced, and I finally updated this story! *turns to characters* So how do you like it guys?

Erik: Fine. I like it.

Luc: Great! I knew I was a ninja!

Raoul: No.

Luc&Erik: What?

Alia: *reproachfully* Daddy!

Kaen: Your reasons, Vicomte?

Raoul: I don't like this! You make me look like a jerk, sound like a jerk, and reviewers hit me over the head with frying pans!

Kaen, Erik, Luc: You deserved it.

Raoul: Hmph. *random frying pan falls down and hits him in the head* OW!

Kaen: Oh, come on, fop, I'm making this better for you than you're giving me credit for. Christine loves you, Erik is single, and your kid is actually yours. Do you have any idea how rare those things are in this fandom, especially that last one? Let alone all three?

Raoul: Well…I guess so. I'll give it time.

Kaen: Good. Glad to hear feedback from you guys, but what about you, readers? I'd really like to have reviews rolling into my inbox! I could thrive off them! How did you like the chapter? Who was your favorite OC? Come on, I need feedback, people!

Erik: Kaen, begging isn't going to work well. Don't some other writers use creative gimmicks to get their readers to review the story?

Kaen: Yeah, but I don't want to be gimmicky!

Luc: Oh! Kaen, I've got an idea! *whispers it in her ear*

Kaen: Oh…Luc…That's…BRILLIANT! Erik! Restrain the fop!

Erik: *evil grin* With pleasure.

Raoul: Wait, wha –

Erik: *pushes Raoul into a chair and ties him up*

Kaen: That was fast.

Raoul: Hey! What are you doing? What's going on?

Kaen: Fop…The time has come.

Raoul: For what, exactly?

Kaen: You are getting a haircut.

Erik: *grins evilly and produces a razor* Mwahahahaha…

Raoul: *struggles* NOOOOOOOOOOO! NOT MY HAIR! NOT MY LONG, LUSCIOUS, BEAUTIFUL HAIR! PLEASE, DON'T DO THIS TO ME! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Erik: You know, you were a lot calmer when I was threatening to kill you and take your fiancée away from you forever…

Raoul: Screw my life and family, I wanna keep my hair!

Kaen: Wow, way to be, fop…Anyway! Erik's not the one who will decide your fate this time, it's the reviewers! Okay, guys, here's what you do – If you want Raoul to get a haircut, review this story! If you don't want to save Raoul from his haircut, review this story!

Luc: *grin* And if you want Alia to –

Alia: If you dare finish that sentence, I'll rip off one of your legs and bludgeon you to death with it.

Kaen: …Oh my God, I did NOT just use not one but TWO adamwestslapdog jokes…

Raoul: What? But – But that's a no-win situation!

Erik: Yes, I'm quite good at creating those. *moves razor toward Raoul's hair*

Raoul: *panics* What? No! Oh my God! Help! 'Lia, save me! Alia! Do something! Get your mother! Help me! Wait a minute… *gears click in his head as he remembers the last time Erik had him in a no-win situation* 'Lia, that's it! Get your mother! GET YOUR MOTHER!

Erik: *singing* Nothing can save you now, except perhaps – Oh, wait a minute, not even Christine can save you now! Mwahahahaha!

Raoul: ALIA!

Alia: Er…I don't know… *thinks about it*

Luc: *puts hand on her shoulder* Hey, think about this, cherie – If he gets a haircut, he'll look less feminine! Wouldn't you and your mom prefer the Ryan Silverman look?

Alia: *brightens* Oh, yes! Hey, Erik, can you make him look like Ramin Karimloo?

Erik: *grin* I'll try.

Raoul: I seriously wish I could facepalm right now…

Kaen: Okay, enough with you, Vicomte. Luc, Alia, you come with me. We're going to run through the musical themes of this chapter!

Luc&Alia: Yay!

Kaen: Erik, you stay here and guard the fop.

Erik: Gladly. *grins evilly at Raoul*

Raoul: *gulp* Oh no…

*In other room*

Kaen: Okay, so the main theme of this chapter is the Phantom of the Opera overture.

Luc: Kaen prefers the movie version of it, but you can take your pick of the musical or movie version.

Kaen: Andre and Firmin's theme is 'Rufus' Welcoming Ceremony' from Final Fantasy VII, composed by the brilliant Nobuo Uematsu. (Search YouTube user Cloud183 for all FF7 music mentioned, if the videos don't get taken down.) The tune communicates a new start and a big event and just the slightest bit of ego…

Alia: And in the midst of it all, there's a redhead who could care less… *looks at Fabien*

Kaen: Okay…Fabien's revenge theme is the Italian version of 'My Lullaby' from Lion King II.

Fabien: *singing* Sono stata esiliata, sono sola ed indifesa. [I was exiled, I am alone and defenseless]

Luc: You like that movie way too much, Kaen.

Fabien: *singing* Sono stata umiliata, *draws knife* mi sento molto offesa. [I was humiliated, I feel very offended]

Kaen: Yes, I know…But it's the best of the Disney sequels! Anyway, to get the best translation I could find, on YouTube search 'Lion King 2-My Lullaby-Italian Subs&Trans' and select the video by gotipoison.

Fabien: *singing* Ma ho un sogno nel cassetto, chi mi rende assai vivace. [But I have a hidden dream, that makes me really chirpy]

Gabriel: Fabien? Chirpy? Dear God, the world's going to explode!

Fabien: *singing* Mi fa sempre bell'effetto, e ritrovo la mia pace. [It always gives me a good feeling, and I find again my peace]

Alia: Is that a good thing or a bad thing?

Fabien: *singing* Il Fantasma passa a miglior vita! [The Phantom goes to the next life!]

Gabriel: *loudly pretends to die*

Fabien: *singing* Con lui il fratello tanto amata! [With him the brother he loved so much!]

Gabriel: *looks at Alia*

Alia: Don't even think about it.

Kaen: Anyway, I think the Polish and Italian versions of this song are the best, and I thought since Fabien is Italian, why not use this version? The lyrics and the laugh at the end are great, and it's definitely one of the more psychopathic versions.

Fabien: *singing* Son finalmente morti, osanna! [They're finally dead, hosanna!]

Kaen: …And I think Fabien likes that best.

Fabien: *singing* E'la mia ninna-nanna! [It's my lullaby!]

Kaen: Moving on. The theme of Gabriel and Alia's meeting and conversation is 'Holding My Thoughts in My Heart' from Final Fantasy VII. It's a peaceful little song, which, coupled with the point in the game it plays, has a feeling that soon anything could happen.

Gabriel: You really need to get a PS3. I want to play that game so badly…

Kaen: As do I. Unfortunately, all we can do is watch walkthroughs and anticipate the day when we can finally play that masterpiece…

Luc: Moving on?

Kaen: Yes. The theme for Luc and Erik sneaking around the catwalks is the 'Shadow Temple theme' from Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time, composed by Koji Kondo. (Search YouTube user Renegade466isback for OOT music, if the videos aren't taken down.)

Alia: Now, that masterpiece we can play on the Wii, thanks to your Collector's Edition disc thing…

Luc: *playing game*Yeah! I'm out of Kokiri Forest and I'm going on epic adventures and everything's grea – Wait, what's that? Oh, God, no; no, no, no, no, no, no, no – NOT THAT FREAKIN' OWL! Nooooooooo! *bashes head against the back of the couch*

Kaen: I've got no idea why I settled on this theme, it's what I was listening to while writing the scene and it just felt kind of right. And the theme for when Firmin reads the note is also from Ocarina of Time – 'Ganondorf's Theme'.

Luc: Ominous stuff there…

Kaen: And finally, the theme of Fabien revealing his plans of revenge to Gabriel is 'Black Water' from Final Fantasy VII: Advent Children, also composed by Nobuo Uematsu.

Alia: And now, finally, we are entirely done with this bear of a chapter!

Kaen: Excellence… *falls back on couch while the Serenade of Water (Ocarina of Time) plays in the background* Still, I can't wait to get started on the next one. Rest assured, dear readers, I have no intentions of stopping this story!

Luc: Regardless of how slow your updates come…

Kaen: I'll tell you to shut up later, Luc. It's late and I have my first day of high school tomorrow. I'm tired… *curls up on couch*

R&R?

Raoul: Yes, please do! Find some way to help me!

Erik: *raises razor* Shut up, or I'm going Sweeney Todd on you!

Raoul: *whimpers* Please…Do it to save the poor fop…

~0~