A/N: Wow, hi everyone! I wasn't expecting much of a response to this story, especially so soon! Thank you all for your support, I really appreciate everyone's kind words 3

I'm also here to apologize for the slow start- I'm planning on updating at least once a week as I get further into the story, hopefully twice a week eventually. However, I just started a new job (incredible timing there) and the past week has been uncomfortably hectic. As I settle in to my new schedule, I should have more time to update! So without further ado:

Chapter 2

Dawn. Again.

Claire awoke slowly to the gentle sounds of early-morning human activity around her. Blinking in confusion, she looked around, wondering who had come into her hotel room without knocking. But instead of the soft drapey curtains and exquisite artwork that had greeted her the last few days, she was greeted by the soft folds of backdrops and dusty scaffolding. She groaned quietly in disappointment- the night before had not been a dream.

"Of course, I could just be dead," Claire thought to herself. "Nothing's preventing this from just being some bizarre afterlife scenario that no one ever expected."

Whether dead or not, Claire decided that the best course of action would be to treat this as the new normal, and try to survive as though this were now her objective reality. By the gnawing in her stomach, she knew she would have to leave her hiding place to find some sort of sustenance before long, but first she checked her phone to see if anything had changed. Unfortunately, the bar at the top still indicated no signal, and none of her apps would load properly. Switching it off, she stowed it in her bag.

Hoping for the best, Claire shoved her bag under a large pile of dust coated set pieces, as they seemed unlikely to be used in the near future. She had to slip out and explore, but doing so while weighed down by a heavy laptop, camera, and cell phone seemed to not be the best way to move stealthily around a bustling theatre. After a moment's thought, she tucked her hard-soled shoes away as well, opting to trade warmth for stealth. With her belongings securely stashed away, Claire slipped from her hiding spot- never once noticing the shadow that loomed behind her as she crept through the dimly-lit basement.

Claire silently maneuvered herself into a dark corner from which she would easily watch the people around her. As though to confirm her theory, everyone was dressed as though they had jumped right out of the 1800's. While France certainly had a different style of dress than America, Claire was pretty certain that the corsets and voluminous dresses the women wore had gone out of style a good dozen decades ago. The men's clothing was less jarring, but still looked out of place compared to her modern sensibilities. Of course, she supposed, she was truly the one out of place here- if she had somehow slipped back through time, Claire would at some point need to find clothes that matched.

As she skulked around the edge of the basement, looking for the best pathways to leave the basement, she took stock of each and every individual present. A few stagehands bustled about here and there, tidying up props, gathering set pieces, and taking general inventory of what was available. At the far corner, a young woman rifled through a rack of clothing- Claire assumed she must be a costumer of some sort. To the side, a few men laid about, munching lazily on a breakfast they had brought in. Claire's stomach growled fiercely at the sight, but she didn't dare slip out from the shadows to swipe any of it. She would have to wait until everyone had left and go for the crumbs.

As if the universe heard her thought, a great clamor came from upstairs and the entire company picked themselves up to follow the ruckus. As everyone was speaking French, Claire could only understand snippets, but it seemed as though they had vacated to attend a full cast and company meeting. As soon as the last stagehand had disappeared to the floors above, Claire slipped from her hiding spot and dashed to the leftover snacks, swiping as much as she could carry.

Dipping back into the shadows, Claire ate quickly, almost choking on the stale bread and dry chicken she had pilfered. She was going to have to be on the move again quickly, as her current hiding spot wasn't ideal- while it was safe for the moment, there was no telling when a stagehand might find their way back into her tiny den. The safest thing would be to find a new hiding place, somewhere even further from prying eyes.

Ideally, she would be able to find her way into one of the many fabled secret passages that were supposed to line the opera house. She had no idea if any of these existed, but on her previous tour of the Palais Garnier in her own time, the guide had hinted that they may, in fact, exist. Without more information, however, she would have to find her way along blindly, looking for any possible clues as she searched.

She kept to the shadows as she made her rounds, ducking behind scenery and set pieces whenever the gentle rustle of skirts or raucous voices of exuberant theatre workers came near. As she stealthily infiltrated the deepest reaches of the opera, she racked her brains for clues her tour guide may have let slip, as well as tried to recall the exact paths they had taken through the labyrinthian structure.

It was in many ways the same opera house she had visited just days before- or years in the future, depending on how you looked at it. In other ways, however, it was vastly different. Much of the mechanisms below the stage for running the trapdoors, raising and lowering the curtains, and hoisting heavy set pieces into place had been replaced and upgraded by Claire's time. In this era, everything looked much simpler and rougher, with none of the shiny new steel struts and supports. Even so, it seemed as though the construction had not changed drastically since it was first built, and so she was able to find her way through the dim passages with ease.

After several hours of her careful walk-hide-walk-hide routine, Claire was almost ready to give up and accept the tiny alcove among the set pieces as her new home. Then, just as she was about to turn back, she spotted an odd alcove set out of place along the edge of the corridor she now traversed. Had she not turned at the exact moment she did, she would likely never have spotted it. But now, squeezing herself into the tight space, she realized intuitively that it was not meant to be here, not meant to be seen.

Claire ran her hands along the edges of the alcove, looking for some sort of handle or knob that would let her into whatever room lay beyond. She knew it was a risk- it could just as easily lead to a well lit room full of theatre workers as it could to a secret hideaway, but she had to give it a shot. It was hide out in the opera or face life on the streets in 19th century (she assumed) France- and that was not a possibility she was ready to face.

Patting roughly at the walls, Claire at last felt out what seemed like a switch, though she wasn't able to see it clearly in the dark. As she tugged on it, however, the wall at the back of the alcove slide to one side, the rock grinding roughly as it did so. Beyond the alcove lay her prize- a small darkened chamber, followed by another narrow tunnel on the other side. While it wasn't a perfectly isolated room, it was clear that it wasn't traversed regularly by the workers of the Palais Garnier, and therefore would serve well as a hiding spot until she could make sense of her new, uncertain existence. Claire squeezed herself inside and let the door slide shut behind her, making sure to note where the corresponding switch sat on her side of the door before she was engulfed in darkness.

As her eyes adjusted to the sudden lack of light, Claire presently noticed a small pinprick of light coming from the corner. She groped her way along the wall until she reached it, realizing that it came from a small hole in the masonry. Pressing her face against the cold rock, it became clear to her that it functioned more or less as a peephole, from where she could watch the stagehands as they bustled about the vast space under the stage. It wasn't much for entertainment, but it would allow her to judge when it was safe again to slip out and gather her belongings to bring back to her new hiding spot- as well as hopefully a blanket and some pillows. She hoped she might even find some more leftover food scraps before turning in for the evening.

And so began a long game of watch, nap lightly, and sit in boredom as she waited for the various workers to clear out for the day. When at long last it seemed as though the activity had settled and the stagehands packed up to get started on rehearsal again the next day, Claire slipped back into the main corridor, counting her steps carefully as she slipped back to the room where her bag and shoes had been waiting for her.

As she crept back to her previous hiding place, Claire also managed to procure some sheeting and drop cloths that might function as slightly better blankets than her coat, and a rusty oil lamp- she was suddenly glad for the lighter she carried everywhere, even though she wasn't a smoker. Slipping back into the alcove, she dug around for her bag in the spot where she had hidden it.

It was gone.

Her shoes had been left behind, untouched by whoever had taken her bag. But the bag itself, with her phone, laptop, and camera all stored inside had clearly been spirited away by some unknown individual. With a pit in her stomach, she scrambled around as quietly as possible, hoping that she had simply mistaken where she had placed her bag- but no. It was absolutely and entirely gone.

With nothing left to do but hope it might turn up at some odd moment, Claire gathered her shoes and the rough pillow from the night before and silently made her way back to the hidden room behind the stage. By the light of the oil lamp, she arranged her new bed to be as comfortable as possible, and slipped slowly into an uneasy and hungry sleep.

The shadow hovered, ever watchful from the small but open tunnel opposite Claire's sleeping place.