Authoress' Note- I hate legal stuff, but here we go again...ALW and M. Leroux own the PotO characters, not me. Get it? NOT me! You will know my characters, believe me. Enjoy! P.S.-'x' are thoughts, 'kay?

EDIT: I noticed some mistakes in here, so I went ahead and revised it. A few new things here and there…Where's Waldo everyone! Just kidding.

--

A Twist of Faith
Chapter Two: Fresh Start
--

From his seat in Box 5, Erik let out a sigh of admiration and mild exhaustion. He had been prowling the halls when he heard the doors announce a new presence in his opera. He swiftly made his way to his box and saw the scarlet hooded figure turn about to see all around her.

He was utterly speechless, and breathless, after she unknowingly performed for him. The music she coaxed from that little instrument was irresistibly sweet. She obviously had been taking lessons, but she didn't play with the stoic uniform of most professionals. She played with liberty and fluid motion, as if savoring every note. Yet, she had stopped at the peak of the bar it seemed. Perhaps she'd faltered or was only testing the pitch. He wasn't quite sure, but something about her was definitely different. And Erik felt he would soon find out what that was.

--

"Next!" bellowed M. Reyer.

Elaine swallowed and slowly made her way to the center of the stage. She tried to look more confident, although she felt all eyes on her.

"Your name, mam'selle?" the repetituer asked with diminishing patience. He'd obviously seen his share of amateurs.

"Elaine Tourouse, m'sieur," she let her name roll cleanly off her tongue. He looked at her with some surprise.

"You say 'Tourouse'?"

"Yes."

"Err, yes, well, what piece will you be auditioning with?"

Elaine's eyes lit up and she grinned, "My piece is called 'Jacqueline'." she picked up her violin and looked at M. Reyer. He nodded in approval, secretly hoping she was who he thought she was.

--

Damn, damn, run faster idiot!

Erik's pulse pounded through him as he tore up the stone staircase that led up to his box. He'd completely forgotten about the auditions! Getting back into being the Opera Ghost wasn't very easy. With any luck, he just might catch the young violinist he'd seen the previous day.

His luck barely evaded him. She'd just finished the final strains of her piece as he arrived. A quick glance at Reyer told him what he wanted to know; the eccentric stage manager was nearly breathless.

"That...that was a very fine performance. Who... ahem, who composed that music, mam'selle?"

No one has been able to make Reyer stutter in a long while, Erik mused.

"I did m'sieur," she said brightly and with a degree of pride. Erik's eyes widened. No one has performed an original piece in a long time either.

"I...see. And your age?"

"I'll be twenty one next month." Erik almost choked. So did Reyer.

"P-pardon me please, mam'selle. Andre, Firmin, may I speak with you a moment?" Reyer motioned for the managers to come aside with him. Erik tried to get a look at the girl's face, but the shadows from the houselights prevented it. He exited his box to try to get closer without being seen. He arrived behind a pillar with a view of her back. 'Drat.' One positive point was that he was in the perfect place to hear the conversation between the three gentlemen.

"I tell you, she is just what we need," Reyer hissed with fierce determination.

"I agree she is extraordinary, but making her the lead violinist? I think it's a little too much Reyer. I mean she's brand new," Andre sputtered in his nervous way.

"She's actually someone though, not some nameless talent off the streets," he insisted.

"We have a lead violinist already," Firmin reminded him.

"Yes, and compared to her, he is nothing! Do you have any idea who she is?" Reyer whispered a little louder than he'd intended. Curious eyes glanced into the pit, murmurs rising from the wings. He cringed and glared at the managers, but they still had the final say. "All right. But she will replace him in time. You will see," he growled cryptically.

The small group broke apart and Reyer smiled raggedly at Elaine, who returned him a shining grin. "Mlle. Tourouse, thank you for your performance. It was indeed a treat. Results will be posted tomorrow."

"Thank you for your time, Messieurs," she said cheerfully and left the stage, and Erik got his first look at her. She nearly took his breath from his lungs. She was exquisite. The graceful curves of her face reminded him of a marble sculpture: an effigy to the goddess of beauty. There was a light spring in her step that made her glossy black hair seem so full. And her eyes were the most stunning shade of gold that the sun had never seen. She cradled the violin in her arms as if she feared it would break, and she was gazing at it so intently that she almost ran into Carlotta Guidicelli.

"Watch your step riffraff!" she shouted and tossed her unnatural red hair back. "Your street filth will get all over my fine clothes!"

Erik growled deep in his throat. Repulsive black widow...fine clothes indeed. Then he looked at the girl, seeing a change coming over her pretty face.

"I do apologize Signora," she said with cool sweetness, her golden eyes losing some of their warmth. "Your clothes are indeed fine...but my street filth is too good for them."

Erik's went slack jawed at her fearlessness. Bravo mam'selle.

"Why you dirty little commoner!" Carlotta screeched in her awful high voice.

Her plush rosy lips curled into a sly grin. "Yes, well, I could stay and think of a retort, but I have to go relieve myself," Elaine returned without the least bit of malice, earning a few giggles from the ballet girls hiding in the wings. Erik almost exploded with laughter himself. Carlotta screeched again and stomped off, huffing and whining. Elaine grinned in triumph and he heard her leave the stage.

After a furious sprint back into the basement, where he knew he could be alone, he fell to the floor and sobbed with great peals of mirth. Never had he seen such a display of guts and control against La Carlotta. He'd seen her send grown men scurrying away like field mice. He wiped his eyes and drew his cloak about him as he swept down to his lair. Now he was even more intrigued.

--

The next morning, Elaine raced down to the opera house to view the results. Her heart raced as she scanned the list. Leading tenors... sopranos... chorus... then the orchestra. She screamed and clapped her hands with glee when she saw it:

Lead violinist: M. Marque Gallin
Alternate: Mlle. Elaine Tourouse

"Oh! Oh my goodness! I can't believe it...Oh, I-I'm going to fall!"

"Allow me," said a deep voice behind her, and she felt someone catch her arm as she staggered back. She gasped and turned her head to see a handsome young man with a wide smile. His eyes were as blue as ice, yet they were warm. She blushed, smoothing her hand through her thick hair as he steadied her.

"I…um…thank you, m'sieur."

"Now you've got your feet back, tell me cheri, what made you so excited that you needed my assistance?"

"Sorry, I, uh, it's just...look! I'm the alternate for the lead violinist!" she grinned and pointed. "See, that's me! I mean, I hoped I would get the lead chair, but this is definitely a start!" She was so excited that she failed to notice the warmth rapidly leaving his eyes.

"Is that so? Then I should introduce myself. My name is Marque Gallin."

"Oh! Well hello, I'm Elaine, but I guess you can see that," Elaine smiled and extended her hand to him. He glanced at it but didn't take it.

"My fingers are for violins, not for hands," he said curtly, yet retaining the smooth coolness in his voice.

"I see," she frowned at his complete turnaround. Undaunted, she decided to take a different approach. "You must be very good to be in the lead chair."

Marque looked into her eyes, his own taking on a more arctic luster, "Yes, I am 'very good'. I am the best, and I have been for four years. Luck might get you in favor with that fool Reyer, but you would do well to learn that life is not served on a golden plate for you. This position will never be yours, no matter what he thinks. I've worked too hard to have my career threatened by some No One from No Place. So just keep out of my way."

Elaine's usually soft eyes grew hard with indignant fire. Was that a threat? "Are you quite finished?" Gallin grew silent at the sudden ice in her voice. "I must tell you that you are wasting your precious time on me. I do not give way to a pompous, preening brat just because he tells me to. I will strive for that position. If you'll excuse me, I'm leaving for my quarters, and you should do the same, so you can get back to courting your reflection."

Elaine turned on her heel and stalked off, too quickly to see the shocked look on his face. And there was no way she could see the shocked look on another man's face.

From his perch high above them, Erik sputtered with silent laughter. This girl was certainly no damsel in distress. Any other girl would have crumbled under such a threat. At this thought, Erik's jaw went tense. Gallin had no right to speak to her in such a manner. He would have had no quarrel with the violinist aside from his smugness and lackluster technique, but now something needed to be done. This extraordinary girl needed a better chance than just waiting around for some cocky little twit to become ill!

First things first Erik.

Gallin would have to wait. He had someone else on his mind.

--

"Bastard! Who does he think he is!"

Elaine was still fuming when she rounded the corner in the long, winding hallway. She followed the small numbered plates until she found her assigned practice room. Opening the door, her mouth fell open.

She'd expected to find a room with enough space for her and a mouse. Instead, she was standing in a nicely sized room with a modest built-in vanity and enough space for her easel and instrument cases. There was even enough space for a cot to sleep on. The only thing wrong with it was the dust and grime all over.

"Well, better get stared Elaine," She breathed to herself and left for the hotel.

Hours later, the room fit her taste. Her tall oak easel stood in the corner with a lantern hanging over it and her paints neatly stores behind it. The new armoire was filled, and with the amount of money she had left, she was able to purchase a fine full-length mirror to mount on the wall. Her violin case and stacks of books sat beside the vanity. With a length of canvas and some nylon rope, she'd made a large hammock, in place of a cot, and hung it towards the far wall. Various other pieces of furniture were set around, and the fine layer of dust that had draped the room was gone. She stood back to admire her handiwork.

Well, it's clean, it's comfy...It feels like home," she smiled tiredly, and laid down in the hammock. It swayed gently, and a wave of sleepiness washed over her. She stretched and sighed, sinking into a soft nap, completely unaware of a pair of mismatched eyes watching her from behind the walls.