Author's Note: I do not own Phantom of the Opera, as I am sure is not a surprise to anyone. "Gone Gone Gone" belongs to Phillip Phillips.

10

Kayla awoke early in the morning to a soft golden glow. Sleepily blinking her eyes open, she smiled at the warm sunlight trickling through the round glass window behind her. When she sat up and twisted around to look through the window, she could see the crimson and orange trees that grew tall on the streets of Paris. It was autumn here, she noted in surprise. Everyone was still sound asleep, oblivious to the rising sun, except for Christine, who would be waking up elsewhere. An underground kind of elsewhere.

The sun was just peeking over the horizon, as if ashamed to show its face. Kayla unlocked her trunk and began to get dressed, wearing her black pants, blue work shirt, sports bra, and boots. She slid her black vest over her shoulders as she folded up her nightgown and cardigan. Locking the trunk once more, she tiptoed out of the dorm with her phone and bag in tow.

The opera house was deserted and silent. Obviously it was too early for anyone to be up. She slowly made her way down onto the stage, and from there into the set manager's office. Fortunately for her, the door was unlocked. She entered the empty room and sat down at the desk, making a mental note to ask Madame Giry for a key. She pulled out her mirror and makeup, and quickly reapplied concealer until her bruises were once again invisible. She brushed out her blonde hair and whipped it back into a loose, low braid. Wiping off the previous day's eye makeup with a Kleenex, she lightly drew black eyeliner around her eye lids, deciding to forgo mascara for the time being. Finished with her one girly routine, she stood and began to search the shelves for the Il Muto set book. Once she found it, she left the office and began to read, familiarizing herself with the story line, characters, and cues, as well as the locations of the set pieces.

Il Muto was very obviously meant to be a parody, and thus was quite amusing. Kayla, who had never been able to figure out the full plot of the opera in question from simply watching the stage productions and movie of Phantom, found herself laughing hysterically at the antics described in the book. Once she was confident in her knowledge, she returned the book to the office and retested herself, walking from one piece to the next as she imagined each new movement and change of the set she would be directing later that night. Fortunately for her, there were not as many moving pieces as there had been in Hannibal.

It did not take very long for her to memorize all the placements for each of the five acts. Assured that she would not completely screw up the evening's performance, she navigated the empty labyrinth of the backstage to the main stage. In front of her, the theatre was dark, but on the stage, there was enough weak light drifting in from an unknown location that she could see quite clearly. Absently, she stroked the rose that hung around her neck, and was shocked to discover that the gold chain had no clasp whatsoever. "I guess it wants to stay on until my adventure is done," she muttered to herself.

She had been working, per say, for about an hour, yet the opera house was still silent. Struck by a sudden flash of what she felt was brilliance, Kayla tossed her bag off to the side and set her iPhone on a bench. Making sure the ear buds were safely stowed in her bag, she scrolled through her music, and, when she had found the song she wanted, turned up the volume as loud as she possibly could. With a happy smile, she pressed play.

Deep beneath the Opera House, there was no change in the darkness to indicate the transition from night to early morning. The Phantom's face wore an uncharacteristically cheerful grin as he stalked through the tunnels that led away from his lair. His angel still slept, and as it was approximately seven 'o'clock in the morning, she would dream for a few more hours yet. Nor would the rest of the Opera wake; dress rehearsals rarely began before half-past-nine, and most of the cast and crew took advantage of every moment of rest. For now, the Opera Populaire was his alone. After a full inspection of the Opera House, creeping along unseen and unheard, the Phantom decided to visit his box – it would be the first time he occupied it in a week of performances, as that ridiculous fop of a Vicomte and his guests had recently commandeered his sacred space. Upon reaching Box Five, however, the Phantom realized he was not alone.

There was a girl in his theatre. She was prancing with reckless abandon around the stage, attired in men's clothing – a coarse indigo shirt, a black vest and trousers, and tight leather boots. The long tail of her streaky blonde braid swished behind her as she spun, and the Phantom suddenly recognized her as the new stagehand, the girl Buquet had almost murdered. Most curiously of all, she was singing, harmonizing with a male voice and music, the source of which he could not identify.

"When life leaves you high and dry
I'll be at your door tonight
If you need help, if you need help.
I'll shut down the city lights,
I'll lie, cheat, I'll beg and bribe
To make you well, to make you well..."

It took the Phantom a few moments to ascertain that this was most definitely not piece designed for an orchestra. In fact, after a couple of seconds he distinguished that a piano and possibly a cello were the only classical instruments in the melody.

"When enemies are at your door
I'll carry you away from more
If you need help, if you need help.
Your hope dangling by a string
I'll share in your suffering
To make you well, to make you well."

It was blatantly obvious that the girl had little to no voice training, but she appeared to have the lyrics and tune known by heart. And the music, so unlike anything he had ever heard before, was strangely beautiful in the untrained voice of the girl and the sincere voice of the invisible man.

"Give me reasons to believe
That you would do the same for me.
And I would do it for you, for you.
Baby, I'm not moving on
I love you long after you're gone.
For you, for you.
You will never sleep alone.
I love you long after you're gone
And long after you're gone, gone, gone."

The rhythm of the music was so different from the dramatic operas he heard every day, and the Phantom was intrigued. And unlike the narrative told by an opera, the story in this song was not immediately apparent, but the Phantom felt it all the same. The girl continued to dance across the stage, moving gracefully yet sharply, with movements that made her appear mechanical. Tapping out the beat with the heel of her boot, she continued to sing.

"When you fall like a statue
I'm gonna be there to catch you
Put you on your feet, you on your feet.
And if your well is empty
Not a thing will prevent me.
Tell me what you need, what do you need?
I surrender honestly.
You've always done the same for me.

So I would do it for you, for you.
Baby, I'm not moving on,
I love you long after you're gone.
For you, for you.
You will never sleep alone.
I love you long after you're gone
And long after you're gone, gone, gone."

The quick tempo of the music suddenly slowed, and the voices of the man and the girl became more melodic, taking on a wistful quality.

"You're my back bone.
You're my cornerstone.
You're my crutch when my legs stop moving.
You're my head start.
You're my rugged heart.
You're the pulse that I've always needed.
Like a drum, baby, don't stop beating.
Like a drum, baby, don't stop beating.
Like a drum, baby, don't stop beating.
Like a drum my heart never stops beating..."

The percussion pulsed enthusiastically, rising and picking up speed as the line repeated. The girl sang faster, the notes rising and falling with the changing tempo.

"For you, for you.
Baby, I'm not moving on.
I love you long after you're gone.
For you, for you.
You will never sleep alone.
I love you long after you're gone.
For you, for you.
Baby, I'm not moving on,
I love you long after you're gone.
For you, for you.
You will never sleep alone.
I love you long, long after you're gone.
Like a drum, baby, don't stop beating.
Like a drum, baby, don't stop beating.
Like a drum, baby, don't stop beating.
Like a drum my heart never stops beating for you."

Her voice was happy, yet tinged with an undeniable sorrow. Her lips curled up into a shining grin and the music slowed once more. She and the male lead slowly blended their voices, all the instruments except a lone guitar falling silent.

"And long after you're gone, gone, gone.
I love you long after you're gone, gone, gone."

The melody gently faded away, and the girl let out a peal of incredibly joyful laughter. "Phillip Phillips at the Opera Populaire," she commented quietly, though her words carried up to Box Five. "Never saw that one coming."

Her words barely registered with the Opera Ghost, who was still too caught up in the memory of the music to properly focus on anything else. The simple song had struck a chord with him; the lyrics exactly described the emotions he currently felt towards Christine. One solitary tear escaped its cage and trickled down his smooth, bare cheek. He angrily brushed it away. "Brava, brava, bravisima!" The gentle notes of appreciation floated out of his mouth before he could even consider stopping them, thrown out in the auditorium by his ventriloquism.

On stage, the girl jumped a foot into the air. "Jävla helvete!" she gasped. Her hand unconsciously flying up to clutch something hanging around her neck, she looked around wildly before her gaze landed on box five – on him. Just like last night, he could feel her scrutinizing blue eyes fixed on him, and he felt the ominous sensation that she knew exactly who was watching her.

"Den jävla ljud skrämde mig," she breathed with a shallow chuckle.

The Phantom did not comprehend the words, but he recognized the language as being Swedish – Christine's mother tongue. "Merci," the girl on stage acknowledged softly with a warm smile in his direction. The Phantom shrank back into the shadows.

"Abbots!" One of the stage rats ran onto the stage, peering around the wooden beams nervously. The girl took her gaze off of the Phantom's box and looked at the young man expectantly. "There's drama going on upstairs, Monsieur Andre wants to see you," the boy rushed, breathing heavily as if he had been running.

The girl cursed under her breath and snatched a small, rectangular object off a table on the stage. Lunging at her bag, she shoved the item inside. "'Kay, I'm coming, Jamie," she barked, swinging the bag over her shoulder, though she failed to notice the thick black book that remained dormant on the wooden floor. She followed the stage rat off the stage, their boots thumping on the wooden panels.

The Phantom waited until the echoes had subsided before he descended to the stage. He carefully picked up the book off the floor and retreated back into his tunnels. At least one good thing had come out of this unusual situation, he thought as he slipped into the dark. He now knew the name of the girl he had saved – Mademoiselle Abbots.

Author's Note: Really, I should be reviewing my astronomy notes because my lecture starts in ten minutes, but no, my procrastinating little mind has decided that posting another chapter is the priority and shall be treated as such. So here it is. And just to clarify, just in case anyone is worried, Kayla is not a Christine replacement. She is not all that musically talented, and will not be joining the opera cast , performing in an opera onstage, or fighting it out with Christine. This is just a fluff chapter to kind of alert Erik that there's something off about Kayla, and more importantly, that magical little box she carries around.

Thank you to everyone who has read and reviewed, and please review or PM me with any questions, comments, or critiques.

Thanks!

Tierney