A big thank you to MoonLit-Night, my first official reviewer! In answer to your question:

My story is primarily based on the 2004 movie version. My Eric is a combination of Gerard Butler (who is simply wonderful), Franc D'Ambrosio (who stole my heart as the first Eric I ever saw live), and my interpretation of Eric from Leroux's book (I love his gentility and gall, I mean the man shows up to a managerial dinner!) For Eric's past I rely heavily on Kay.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything of the Phantom of the Opera (but I swear he likes me better than Leroux, Lloyd Webber, or even Kay!)

Observations

I awoke the next morning with a feeling of expectation. I realized that I had lived my life to that point with nothing of interest around me. My only outlet for passion was in my music. For the first time, I had other objects of interest in my life.

I had lived most of my life with my parents. They had no great faith that my music would ever amount to anything, but they did not exactly discourage it; they were too good to do that. My mother had thought I would do better to showcase my accomplishment on the piano as a parlor talent and catch a nice husband with it. My father thought perhaps I could tour as a concert pianist. Either option (a husband or an unwanted career) would have cut deeply into my time as a composer. I could not be idle, however. My family was respectable, but by no means so well off as to allow a daughter to refuse both to marry and to support herself. I had, therefore, given piano and singing lessons to the daughters of rising middle class merchants. I came across no great talent among these girls, but I was able to take on only as many students as I chose, thus leaving plenty of time for composition.

Both of my parents had died of pneumonia three winters ago. I continued to teach while I lived with my brother until the strain between me and my sister-in-law had become too much to bear. That is when I had come to the opera.

That was all there was to my life up to now. There were no extraordinary characters, no unusual happenings to add zest to life. There had been only occasional disappointment and heartbreak to break the monotony of day to day life. Now I was surrounded by the life of the theater, and, moreover, the colorful characters who populated the Opera Populaire. I realized how bland my life had been, and how much I had longed for a change.

Well I definitely had a change. I reflected on the past few days as I dressed. I wondered at my conversation of the night before, and found myself looking forward to my next chance to speak with that faceless voice: a faceless voice that belonged to someone who obviously had something gruesome to hide. I had thought the Phantom might be some disgruntled, long-time employee. But now I had heard that voice I knew that could not be the case. I would recognize that voice anywhere, and so too would anyone else who had ever heard it. There was no disguising its power and beauty.

I shook my head to clear it of these distracting thoughts as I made my way to the ballet rehearsal room. I should not be fraternizing with the Opera Ghost, in any case. I did not want to put my position at the opera in jeopardy.

vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv

An hour later I once again followed the corps de ballet down the narrow stairs to the wings. I resumed my place of the previous day, and found there was even more to observe today. The gala performance was tonight, and I grew uneasy as I watched the rehearsal. While there were many points that looked polished and professional, there were just as many places in the production that needed much work visually and even more work from an auditory perspective.

Monsieur Reyer seemed even closer to snapping today than he had the day before. I thought he should have stopped La Carlotta in at least a half a dozen places, but she was allowed unbelievable license. The same tolerance did not apply to their lead tenor. Monsieur Reyer stopped Piangi in the middle of a lyric that was clearly muddled. Before he could correct the singer, however, Monsieur Lefèvre entered flanked by two gentlemen.

This seemed as though it would be poor Monsieur Reyer undoing.

"Monsieur Lefèvre, I am rehearsing!"

"Monsieur Reyer, Madame Giry, forgive me," was all the reply Monsieur Lefèvre gave before continuing on. "As you know, for some weeks there have been rumors of my imminent retirement. I can now tell you that these rumors were all true, and it is my pleasure to introduce you to the two gentlemen who now own the Opera Populaire: M. Richard Firmin and M. Gilles Andre."

There was much ado at this announcement. While the new managers were introduced to the principle members of the cast and admired some of the principle ballet dancers, I pondered over how much of M. Lefèvre decision to retire came from the pressure of the Opera Ghost.

The rehearsal resumed, and I was not so lost in thought as to be prevented from noticing with amusement that the elephant did, indeed, look much better today, and there was not a blanket to be seen on stage. Piangi had just as much trouble in trying to climb onto the thing's back, however, and I suspected they would have to add some discreet steps to the design.

The scene ended, and just as I had concluded that the Phantom must be a disagreeable taskmaster to push a man to early retirement, I heard Carlotta start another of her fits. I smiled and thought to myself: "the Phantom is not the only person in this theater who could drive someone away."

I watched as Carlotta stormed towards the wing where I stood, followed by the two new managers, already engaged in their task of appeasing the diva. With much undeserved flattery, they finally convinced her to sing for them.

She began her aria from act three with more flourishes than usual. I noticed that neither manager looked to be enjoying the experience, but the diva did not seem to notice.

Suddenly there was a rumbling sound from above. I glanced up only to see one of the canvas backdrops plummeting to the stage. It landed squarely on La Carlotta, pinning her to the stage from her derrière down.

She was quickly liberated and seemed completely unharmed. While the ballerinas declared it was the Phantom of the Opera in excited, very audible whispers, Carlotta shouted at both the old and new management.

"For the past three years these things do happen! And did you stop them from happening? No! And you two! You're as bad as him!"

"Three years," I thought. For once something worth hearing had come out of Carlotta's mouth. Three years of 'accidents.' I wondered if that was how long the Phantom had been here, or simply how long he had chosen to make his presence felt.

Carlotta pushed past me as I reflected. I was slightly stunned. She really had left, and on the afternoon of opening night too! She didn't seem to realize how replaceable she was. I glanced at the stage, and saw that the company didn't seem to realize how replaceable she was either. I really thought that Monsieur Reyer was going to faint. It seemed that there was no understudy. It was the most foolhardy thing I had ever heard of. They did not have at least one understudy for such a pivotal role!

It was then that Mme. Giry came forward. She claimed to have a message from the Opera Ghost. I saw in her hand the now familiar black edged stationary and grinning wax seal. So Mme. Giry really was the Phantom's messenger. I wondered again why it was that she was his chosen vassal.

The note welcomed the new managers to his opera house (I found it amusing that the ghost used the same arrogance with the managers that he did with a mere piano accompanist), and commanded that they continue to leave box five open for his use. "So the ghost has a box," I mused. It was the end of the letter, however, that made may jaw drop. It seemed that the ghost had a regular salary of 20,000 francs. Nothing could convince me now that he was not the most brilliant extortionist of the age.

This note caused another round of general clamor in which one of the new managers lamented, on top of every thing else, refunding a full house.

"Christine Daae could sing it!"

The statement seemed to cut through everyone's thoughts and protestations, for the stage fell silent. I saw who had made the declaration and blessed Madame Giry. Indeed, Christine could sing it, if only she really knew the part!

The managers were understandably skeptical, but it seemed Mme. Giry knew about this mysterious tutor and could vouch for the girl. That explained her gentle treatment of Christine when the girl was not paying attention to her dancing.

I was surprised when Christine was asked for the name of her tutor and she could not say. She did not know the name of her tutor? I felt that was highly suspicious, and it seemed that the managers did too; but with no other option, Christine was given a chance to sing Elissa's act three aria.

The difference was astounding. Carlotta could make the music neither pleasant nor believable. Christine managed both without even seeming to try. Her innocence was ideally suited to the part, and I found myself thinking better of Hannibal that I had done formerly. Needless to say she was given the role immediately, and I wondered what her tutor would say.

During the course of the afternoon it became clear that Christine knew the part. No understudy had ever been more carefully schooled in a role. I felt it was obvious that she had had vocal coaching in every major phrase of her music. This was a role she had been prepared for.

The Phantom was obviously trying to advance Christine's career. He had told me not to interfere with what was immediately before her. Now it made sense. He knew she was preparing for this role. He had engineered Carlotta's walking from her part: that was why he dropped the backdrop, although I might have done the same just to stop Carlotta's pompous display of imaginary talent.

I remembered the amusement in the Phantom's voice when I mentioned having to contend with Christine's tutor. The tutor and the Phantom must be in cahoots together. One would prepare her for the role; the other would make sure the opportunity arose for her to actually play the role. Then it would make sense for the tutor to conceal his identity from his pupil: if the Phantom was caught and plan uncovered, the tutor could still get away.

I was still not happy with my hypothesis. There was something wrong with it, and I could not tell what. Then it came to me: why have a complex conspiracy theory when having only one criminal would work just as well? What if the Phantom was Christine's tutor? He was clearly musical; he was clearly attached to the girl; he was clearly the one who made room for her in the production, and as a lead no less!

I believed Christine to be naïve rather than guilty. If we explained to her the suspicion that her tutor was the extortionist of the opera, perhaps she would agree to tell us when she had her next lesson with the man. The opera could simply notify the police, and he could be taken.

I rejoiced in my plan, and resolved to speak to one of the managers the first opportunity I got. I only prayed they would listen to me. It did seem far fetched, but the whole situation was far fetched. I had had more contact with Phantom than they had. I could prove my contact: they could see for themselves the extravagant piano in a room that did not deserve it. Christine and I could help them find the Phantom. I felt I understood him, and that was a step towards catching him. I understood his passion for music. I knew why he would want to direct the opera's movements.

Suddenly I was overcome with sadness at the thought of his exquisite voice sequestered in a prison. I did not want to see beauty banished to a dungeon. I did not want someone I felt so akin to caged because of me. Music moved him as it did me. I had felt an innate sympathy with him, just in our short acquaintance. He knew what it was to have "underappreciated talent" just as I did, I was sure of it. Could I betray him?

"Don't be silly!" I told myself. "He is a criminal and that is all! He is nothing to you and you are nothing to him." But we could be something to each other, I am sure! That was my soft side speaking, and I pushed the thought away.

I heard footsteps drawing near. I looked up. M. Firmin was walking my way. Now was my chance.

"Monsieur?"

He stopped and looked at me, "Ma'am?"

It was clear that he did not have any idea what I did for the opera, and was trying to decide if I was worth speaking to. I looked at his face, and found that I preferred the company of the faceless Phantom.

I smiled brightly "Welcome to the Opera Populaire!"

He growled something indistinct, and stormed past me. My smile faded as soon as he had passed. I tried to tell myself that he would never have believed me anyway, and that that was the reason I had not said anything about a suspicion that was fast becoming a certainty. In my heart I knew the real reason I did not say anything: I liked the Phantom. I tried to tell myself that my feelings stopped at liking.

vvvvvvvvvvvvvvv

The applause was thunderous at the end of the gala. All of us backstage clapped just as energetically as those in the auditorium. Christine Daae was an unmitigated success. She had been perfect. My own critical ear could not have asked for a better performance. In fact, her delightful portrayal of Elissa had seemed to have breathed new life into the cast around her, for everyone had turned in a better performance than I had yet seen.

After the curtain calls finally ceased I went to look for her. I wanted to congratulate her. I also wanted to ask what had happened to her need for secrecy concerning her talent. I wondered if she would say something that would either confirm of deny my theory that the Phantom was her teacher.

I searched for her among the bustling crowd backstage, but I could not locate her. I was about to give up, and resign myself to speaking with her on the morrow when I noticed Meg slipping away.

I could scarcely believe it of myself, but I followed her. I felt sure she was going to Christine. I blame my ever increasing fascination with the Phantom for my actions. I would never have done something so juvenile and underhand before I had met him.

Meg quickly led me to an abandoned section of the theater. I felt we must be below the street level at this point. Meg entered a room marked as the chapel. I caught a glimpse of Christine sitting there. It had not been my original intention of eavesdropping, but I knew I could not find my way back on my own, and there was no way to explain my presence down here without embarrassing confessions so I simply waited outside the door.

Neither girl bothered to lower their voice. I could not help but hear, and what I heard was almost unbelievable. It seemed Christine had never seen her tutor. She believed him to be an angel; I knew him to be quite the opposite. I could not believe how gullible Christine was: with all the talk about the Phantom, she never once thought that he and her angel might be one and the same. Two supernatural beings taking a supernatural interest in the affairs of the opera would seem unlikely. One flesh and blood human extortionist masquerading as two different supernatural beings seemed much more likely. In Christine's defense, though, I would never have thought to hear such a voice as the Phantom's in the realm of mortals.

I concealed myself in the shadows as Meg and Christine emerged and followed them back up to the main level. Many corridors were now deserted, but there were still a fair number of people in the hall by the dressing rooms.

Christine entered hers. I decided to give her a moment before I knocked as I did not want to appear overanxious to talk to her. I hesitated a moment to long, however, and an amorous looking young man grabbed a bouquet of flowers from one of the managers and entered the dressing room. I groaned. The look on his face said that he would be by Christine's side for the rest of the night unless forcibly repelled. The hall was quickly emptying and the young man did not emerge. I would just have to wait until tomorrow.

I walked back to my room and was just opening my door when I realized there was someone else besides Christine whom I could speak to regarding her lessons. I sped to the piano room and threw open the door.

"Hello?" I called to the empty room.

There was no reply.

"Phantom?" I would really have to get his real name next time I talked to him. I sounded ridiculous calling for a Phantom.

"Are you there?"

Still no answer.

"I would really like to talk to you, if you please."

He had come every time I played. Perhaps I could play until he arrived. I sat down and played for a few minutes. I paused and began again. This time I played for longer. I went on in this way for a while, until I was finally forced to admit that he would not be coming tonight.

It was silly, but I felt a little desolate. He obviously had more important things to be doing tonight than to be talking with me. I told myself I did not mind; that I had only wanted my curiosity satisfied, and that was the only reason I was disappointed he did not come. I knew even then that I was lying to myself. I wanted him to come because I wanted his company, not for any other reason.