'Stealing the Heart of the Phantom's Son'
Chapter 1- "Learning From Mistakes (Or Not)"

Six Days Later, Day Before Opening Night (Thursday)

"Alright, let's take it from the top!" Monsieur Queline shouted from the Orchestra Pit and the girls got in place and they were ready to begin…

The orchestra started and the Mademoiselles pranced onto the stage and gracefully danced and beautifully sang through it until Act II. When "Señorita Lorenzo" waltzed out and sang in the worst soprano ever, (Yes, she is basically the Carlotta character in PotO, I just couldn't resist putting her in here…) causing one of the girls to lose her concentration. Therefore, causing her to lose her footing and she went tumbling into another girl, creating a 'domino effect' across the stage until the only one that was left standing was Señorita Lorenzo.

The girl who had caused the catastrophe shot up from her place on the ground and shouted, "I am so sorry! I got distracted and tripped!"

Monsieur Queline looked appalled and very angry that she had ruined his rehearsal, "Elizabeth de Marquis, I thought I taught you to pay attention!" He yelled across the vast, empty audience seats at her.

"I'm sorry, Monsieur." She spoke back, her voice starting to quiver as the corners of her eyes began to moisten with fresh, salty tears. Elizabeth ran offstage before anyone could see them fall. When she finally reached her temporary dwelling, she slammed the door shut, jumped on the bed, buried her face in the pillow, and only then did she let her pain go, in heart wrenching sobs.

She felt pressure on the edge of her bed and became aware of the person's presence as they removed her hair from her face. She opened her eyes and gasped at what she saw, it was a boy about her age, maybe a little older than herself, and he was wearing half of a white mask on his face. And then she heard him sing her name, okay not literally sing it, but his voice was so melodic and gracious, "Elizabeth, Elizabeth." The boy's voice was dark and brooding, it was strangely deep, considering how young he was. She opened her mouth to ask for his name, but it never came because they heard stomping coming up the corridor and the door flung open to reveal a very livid Monsieur Queline.

Elizabeth looked back to where the boy had been sitting and noticed with a shock that he wasn't in the room anymore. Was she seeing things, or was he really there? The next thing she knew Monsieur Queline had grabbed her hair and yanked her off the bed into a standing position. Oh, how she wished that the boy could be here now, maybe he could have saved her from Monsieur Queline… Soon she felt his fist leave her hair. For a moment she felt a wave of relief splash over her, but that emotion was soon replaced with fear once again as she saw him pull his hand back and all that was heard was Elizabeth's shriek and the skin-on-skin contact of the slap.

"I knew you were too young when you first set foot in my opera school. Both physically and mentally!" He started, "I mean, what can you expect from a twelve year old with no parents, hmmm?" He concluded with a rhetorical question.

He smirked at the blood slowly trailing down her cheek as it mixed with her teardrops. As he walked towards the door of her room, he turned and threatened, "You had better make sure that it doesn't happen tomorrow night!"

What neither of them knew was that Elizabeth's residence had a hidden entrance. There was a panel in the wall that opened and closed. So therefore, the Phantom's son had seen the whole thing. He was disgusted that somebody would treat anyone that way; he hadn't even been treated that cruelly… With that thought, he ventured down the corridor maze below the opera house to tell his father, of the preceding happenings…

The Next Night, Opening Night (Friday)

Elizabeth was dancing fine so far, but the second act was rapidly approaching and she was losing confidence and was beginning to extremely doubt if she would be able to concentrate with Señorita Lorenzo's voice screeching unnaturally high. There was an intermission after Act I and that gave Elizabeth some time to gather her thoughts, go through all of the dance routine in her head, and calm herself down a bit. Then the intermission started drawing to a close and Elizabeth took a few deep breaths to get rid of the newly arrived butterflies that were fluttering around in her stomach.

Señorita Lorenzo strolled out to center stage as the curtain rose and began to sing. With excellent poise, Elizabeth and the other dancers tiptoed out onto the stage behind Señorita Lorenzo. She was doing fine until Señorita Lorenzo started to over shoot her solo. Elizabeth's left foot got caught on the other one and she went tumbling to the floor. The whole audience gasped, the orchestra slammed to a halt in their playing, and then there was only silence.

Elizabeth was holding her sore ankle and trembling with fright as she looked into Monsieur Queline's eyes and saw pure hatred and anger. She couldn't believe she messed up like that, and she had been doing so well, too. She snapped her eyes shut and wait for a hit, but all she heard were the screams of the audience as something plopped down next to her from up above and wrapped it's arms around her. She looked up to see who (or what) was saving her and she smiled. It was the boy from yesterday, the one that had been comforting her in her room.

"It's you!" She whispered with giddiness and excitement.

'I wasn't seeing things!' Elizabeth thought to herself, amazed.

"Close your eyes and hold on tight, unless you want to get hurt otherwise." He whispered back to her enchantingly as he stared deeply into eyes.

He got his mind out of the gutter as she wrapped her arms around his torso and squeezed tightly, letting him know she was ready for what was about to happen. Then suddenly, she felt the floor beneath her disappear and she lost her breath as she squeezed him tighter and bit her bottom lip. When they hit the ground, the impact made her teeth sink down into her lip. As she muttered "Ow!" she started to taste a metallic, tangy flavor; it was blood.

"Are you alright?" Elizabeth heard, or rather felt, him whisper in her left ear. She could feel the cold coming from his mysterious porcelain mask, that's how close he was. The chilly glass and his voice made shivers flow down her back in waves, and they certainly weren't caused by fear.

"Yeah, I think so." She told him as she turned and faced him.

"You're bleeding, are you sure?" He replied sounding sincerely concerned.

"Oh, I just bit my lip. It's my ankle that hurts the most." Elizabeth replied as she reached down to massage the aching ankle, but winced as her hand stroked the bruised flesh.

"Yeah, you had a pretty nasty fall back there, didn't you?" He paused as she nodded her head, and then continued on with his questioning, "Do you think you can walk on it?" He asked concerned.

"I'm not sure. Could you help me up, please?" She asked him.

"Of course." He answered chivalrously as he guided her arm across his shoulders.

Once they were standing, he let go of her waist and let her stand on her own. She started to step forward, but as she leaned onto her left foot, her body gave way from the pressure. As she started to fall backwards, which she had been doing a lot of lately, she felt his arms, once again, wrap around her waist and he tugged her close to his chest. Her back was against his abdomen, so his arms were lightly splayed across her stomach. Her heart started to race and obviously he realized the awkward position that they were in because he started to pull away and stuttered when he attempted to talk.

"Erm, well, err, why d-don't we si-sit down and t-talk?" He spoke up while suddenly interested in his shiny, black shoes.

"Err, yeah, sure." She responded and slowly slid down the wall nearest her, ending up in a sitting position.

"First off, I'm Thomas, no surname. I am thirteen years old, the son of the Phantom of the Opera, and I have lived in this Opera House since I can remember." 'Thomas' explained to her.

"Well, Thomas, I am Elizabeth de Marquis…" She started out before she could explicate any more information; he interrupted her in mid sentence.

"Oh, don't worry, I know who you are Elizabeth. You are twelve years old, the daughter of François de Marquis, the famous French pianist, and Clara Danes, the famous English opera singer. You lived in Paris until you were four years old and then you moved to London, England, where your mother was born and raised. That is why your accent in English and not French, because you lost your French accent while you lived in England." Thomas told her everything she already knew.

Her eyes widened and she gasped, "How did you know all of that?" She asked suspiciously.

"It's a gift I guess, just kidding, I thought you would be able to figure it out, I have researched almost all, if not, all, of the great musicians up to date." He elucidated enthusiastically.

"Wow, that is amazing." She complimented his remark, still giggling from the beginning statement.

She leaned in and kissed the side of his face that was concealed by the restricting mask and slowly pulled away. Thomas guessed Elizabeth had noticed what she had just done because after her lips had left his right cheek, she started to blush. His face also started to flush with a tinge of pink as well. No one had ever treated him this kindly before.

"You are really cute when you blush, Elizabeth." He whispered benevolently.

"Erm, thank you, Thomas, you do, too." She replied to his flattering remark with a shy smile.

"Anyway, why did you do that?" Thomas wondered curiously.

Now Elizabeth was really blushing, not only from the kiss she gave him, or from the praise she had just received, but because she didn't really know the answer. She really just wanted to see what it would feel like, "I needed to thank you somehow, and that is the only way I saw suitable. So, thank you for saving me back there. Oh, and thanks for helping me feel a little better yesterday. It means a lot to me." She replied, now an appreciative smile was appearing at the corners of her lips.

Elizabeth opened her mouth to tell him something, but it was soon forgotten as it turned into a yawn. Signaling that it was time her to get some rest. It had been a very long day for not only Elizabeth, but Thomas, as well.

"I forgot it was getting late. Hey, why don't you just come and stay with my father and me? You can sleep there if you'd like…" Thomas offered, noticing how tired she looked. (And how tired he felt and sounded.)

"I would like that, but in case you had forgotten, I still can't walk. So, could you, erm, carry me?" She murmured, looking down at her hands that were curled in her lap, feeling embarrassed because of her current dilemma.

"No problem. You don't have to be embarrassed." He reassured her as he hoisted her up into a bridal style type of position and carried her to where the gondola was. As he laid her down inside, he noticed that she had already fallen asleep.

'She looks so peaceful and calm. Not a care in the world.' Thomas thought as he took in her angelic features.

'I still can't believe that creep did this to her.' He pondered pitifully as he sat down and traced the scar on her right cheek where Monsieur Queline's wedding ring had marred her once flawless skin. ('Who would marry that monster, anyhow?' Thomas wondered.)

At the soft touch, Elizabeth stirred a little and her eyes fluttered open. Thomas' hand was still there when she became fully focused. As she looked away blushing, he felt the quickly formed connection between the two of them grow a little bit more.

Neither said anything until they reached the other side of the lake. He once again, bent down, scooped her up in his arms, and carried her off to a bedroom that was close by. After he laid her down, he sat next to the bed just simply admired Elizabeth as she slipped out of consciousness. Into a world where dreams are made and imaginary friends are created. (Sorry, I just thought that would be a really cute line to put in there.)

She really did take on the look of a fallen angel of some sort. Her dark brown hair, just slightly curly that went to just above her shoulders had a messy look to it that made her look like a doll that had just been played with. Her mysterious eyes, that he noticed when she was awake earlier were hazel; they looked so beautiful. They had blue on the outside and depending on what she was wearing that day, the inside was green with a little brown mixed in or brown with green mixed in, and she always had golden flecks in them that made them sparkle. Her smile was intoxicating and could light up the whole room. She was really short from what he could tell, even for a twelve year old. She looked to be about 4'8" and he was 5'5", although he was pretty tall for someone his age, Elizabeth was still extremely short.

As he was staring at her, his eyelids grew heavy and his head softly fell across her stomach, causing her to jolt awake. She looked at what had startled her out of her slumber and cracked a small smile. That's when she got a chance to really look at him. He looked so innocent when he slept. His dark brown, curly hair made him look so adorable. His eyes, she had also noticed when he was awake, were a brilliant, enthralling blue-silver hue, they were amazing, you could so easily get lost in them. She had concluded that he was really, very tall; compared to her anyway.

She reached out and played with one of his many curly locks. She started humming a tune, and unconsciously started singing the words to it after a while. Her mother and father used to sing it to her as a lullaby to put her to sleep at night. It was basically all she had left of them. Soon enough, the words became just a mere tune again, and as it mixed with Thomas' breathing, she drifted off to sleep for the third time that night. She didn't know that somebody had been listening to her sing and knew that she had great potential.

The next morning, when she woke up, she didn't feel any extra weight resting on her stomach and she heard an organ playing and a magnificent tenor voice began to crescendo as another joined in, singing in a lower octave. She was entranced with the sound and recognized the tune. It was the song she had been singing the night before; someone else must have heard her the night before. She began to sing along with the males' accompaniment until she was singing with all her lungs, diaphragm, and heart. Then she heard the voices, along with the organ stop making their music.

She saw two pairs of shoes step into her line of vision where she had pointed her head in order to hide her blush. When she looked up, she saw two practically identical figures standing in front of her. One younger and shorter than the other and the seemingly older and bigger one had straighter hair.

"Just as I suspected, Elizabeth. I heard you singing last night and I knew you would sing along with me some time. And with a few years of practice and lessons, your voice will be that of an angel's." The apparently older Phantom complimented her.

"Thank you, Monsieur." Elizabeth whispered, once again her cheeks flushing the color of strawberries.

"Oh, don't be so formal, call me Erik." Thomas' father, 'Erik', mentioned and he had a look in his eye that he meant it.

Elizabeth just smiled and answered to his request, "Oui, Erik." (Yes, Erik.)

A/N: This took me five hours to write, two and a half hours to type, and I still have to write more for you… Ugh, just messin', you know I love you guys! Anywho, I am really sorry if Erik and Madame Giry aren't in character, I have only seen the new movie, so I don't know a whole bunch about them… Also, the reason that the two are acting 'sensually' to each other is because twelve and thirteen are basically the age where girls are starting to like boys instead of thinking that they have 'cooties' and vice versa… Well, I hope you liked this chapter, I told it was a lot longer… Please review, remember, no flames, only "constructive criticism!" Toodles!
-Brittany
(P.S.) If you didn't notice, I like really fast stories. There is a lot of detail AND 'fastness!' I know a lot of you hate slow stories as well and I, on account of everyone reading this 'phan'fiction, would like to say, this is the BEST story I have ever written!
M'AIMER POUR QUI JE SUIS…
…love me for who i am