Hello everyone. Welcome to CrystalSister's first ever Phantom of the Opera fanfiction. I do not own PotO. So there. You can't say I took credit where it wasn't due.

Himitsu: Not there anyway…

CS: sweatdrop That's Himitsu, my best friend. She was my spirit guardian for a while, but she has her own body and hangs out with me a lot. Now back to business, Himitsu. When have I ever taken credit when I didn't deserve it?

H: Don't worry; I'll come up with one.

CS: Well? We're all waiting here.

H: I'm thinking!

CS: I thought I smelled hair burning. laughs

H: grr

CS: Okay. First of all, there are a few things you should know about my story. It's set in the modern day. And secondly. I don't want to be flamed. Suggestions are nice, but flaming is just DUMB. Okaay then, I hope you enjoy the story! BTW, before you do anything, you must read punjabchild's ficcy Opera Ghost. Well, any would be GOOD, but that's the only one I've read so far and it's awesome! With all of that out of the way, I present to you this! My fanfic!

A light warm breeze wafted gently through her wavy, bronze-red hair. It was past time for her backstage meeting, yet Crystal couldn't tear herself from the beautiful, almost otherworldly serenity of the City of Lovers at night. The luminescent moon cast a ray of pure radiance on the vast metal expanse that was the roof of the Paris Opera House, and it was the setting Crystal most loved to inhabit when she wasn't rehearsing or performing. She was alone in this man made jungle except for the motionless statue of Apollo, who held his harp toward the heavenly glow coming from the sky, hoping that the Lord deemed his offering worthy.

The sights and sounds being emitted from the shops in the distance were as intoxicating as the finest wine, and Crystal found herself nearly overwhelmed. Even with all the things she did perceive, Crystal knew that many more things remained elusive to her senses.

She sighed, not out of enjoyment of her surroundings, but of annoyance, annoyance because this virtually exclusive world would soon be invaded by Gaines, the director for most of the shows she was in. Gaines was a very generous man with a keen eye for talent of any sort. As well as picking out talent, he possessed a great many himself, and one of them was breaking sacred glass houses like the one Crystal found herself in.

He never asked for more than he knew people were capable of, or asked more than was needed. Meetings, though, were the one thing that stood out in that crowd. It was one of those weird quirks that Crystal couldn't even attempt to analyze. Neither could any of the other cast members, for the information that Gaines gave out was identical, each and every time, sans the dates for the performances.

Few other cast members dared to challenge this rule, though, and Crystal wondered why they felt so obligated to go if they shared her opinion.

A rusty slam was heard behind her.

"Just a minute, Gaines, I'll be right there." She sighed. She felt like yelling, but at the same time, decided against it. What did Gaines do to deserve that kind of disrespect?

She turned around, expecting Gaines' wise and slightly humored face to be staring back at her. But it wasn't. The door was swaying as if Gaines had just been though it, but no-one was there. She stared in disbelief, wondering if the humid air was playing tricks on her mind. Still, no-one. She crept over to the door, expecting it to be another one of the casts' practically jokes. The air suddenly became uncharacteristically icy. She exhaled nervously, and watched the steam escape her now trembling lips. She blinked her cobalt eyes, and time as she knew it slowed to a standstill. A dark shadow, in the silhouette of a man, dissolved into her view. His entire figure was dark, except for two eyes than shone like beacons on a dark midnight sea. As Crystal stared into the enthralling eyes, a surge of loneliness and pain came over her. It was pain and sadness as she'd never known them in her life. A tear fell from her cheek. What was going on here? She was about to address the apparition in front of her. She blinked, and it was gone. The air returned to its sticky humidness. Crystal jumped down the rooftop door. If any time was best to leave the roof, it was now.

"Crystal! Where have you been?" Gaines asked. "You almost missed…"

"Another coffee fueled sermon?" Crystal asked, taking a humored glance at the oversized coffee mug at Gaines' side. If Gaines had a weakness other than the theatre and its music, it was coffee.

"Very funny. You missed some important information."

"I don't know about the rest of the cast, but I don't consider the color of your underwear an important topic."

The group shared a laugh.

"We're about done here anyway, Crystal. You could have stayed on the roof."

Crystal laughed. No-one knew about the strange happenings on the roof yet. 'Shouldn't we keep it that way?' Crystal asked herself. She answered her own question. 'The questions would be flying like 12 year olds to the newest beanie baby display.'

She smiled and made her way backstage.

"Nice comment, Crystal." fellow cast member Nicole complimented.

"Thanks."

Crystal headed towards the narrow ladder that would lead her to the catwalk.

"Not again Crystal." Nicole rolled her eyes.

"What? Don't you want to watch the place fill up with me?"

Nicole glanced at the dimly lit walkway above her.

"No thanks. You know what goes on up there…"

"What?" Crystal took on almost a mocking tone of voice. "Oh no, the Opera Ghost! I can see him! He's heading for you Nicole! He's going to MURDER you! Woooo!"

Nicole put her hands on her hips and tried not to giggle.

"That wasn't funny."

"Yeah, it is!" Crystal laughed. She turned back to the ladder and began to climb.

As Crystal watched the seats gradually fill, her cobalt eyes seemed magnetically drawn to the empty box in the upper level. Box Five. If he even existed, why did the Opera Ghost always need that particular box? Didn't he ever tire of it?

A sly smile crept upon her face. She would have to see. "I'm investigating that after the performance." she said to herself. A sinking feeling in her stomach suddenly became apparent. What if the it was the Opera Ghost who she had encountered while on the roof. Nah. Even so, Crystal couldn't shake the idea of investigating Box Five right after the performance. As she climbed back down to prepare for the show, two nagging questions began to eat away at the back of her mind.

Was the Opera Ghost pure legend, or was he more real than Paris wanted to admit?