Disclaimer: All things tied to the musical/book Phantom of the Opera are (regretfully) not mine.

AN: Finally, the movie begins! I'm not going to copy the film (or the book) word-for-word because, if I did, then it wouldn't be my own story, now, would it? Let's just see what Fate (a.k.a.: my muse) has in mind for everyone, hmm? Enjoy the chapter, and please leave a lovely review.

Chapter 10: An Unexpected Début:

Marie stood before Madame Giry with a scowl on her face. Today she had read over the script with the costume mistresses and had been horrified at what the ballet dancers were required to wear during this opera's performance.

"I really must protest, Madame," she said, crossing her arms over her chest as she had often seen Madame do in the past. "I refuse to allow my sister to wear such an inappropriate costume…if it could indeed be referred to as a costume."

Madame Giry frowned at her in return, but it was quickly cast aside for a surrendering sigh. "I dislike the idea of Meg and Christine donning such clothing as well, petite, but it is out of my hands," the older woman replied, giving her a sympathetic look. "It was written that way in the script, and to change it would require changing the entire storyline of that scene."

"Then have them choose another opera!" Marie cried, uncrossing her arms in order to throw her hands up in the air.

"Enough!" snapped Madame, who was satisfied to see Marie cower a bit at the ballet mistress' tone. "I cannot change the manager's mind, you know that. The costumes will stay as they are in the script, and you are not to take any liberties and alter them to your own personal tastes, are we understood?" Marie nodded. "And do not think for one moment that I am going to remove your sister from her dancing in the opera, either. I need the best and Christine is one of the most knowledgeable in the group selected to dance. She may be a bit clumsy once in a while, but she is still good."

Marie sighed and nodded, but did not look happy about it. Madame walked over and placed a gentle hand on the shoulder of the young woman she considered a daughter.

"If it consoles you, Christine is as uncomfortable with this as you are," she said in a soft voice reserved only for the three girls she considered family. "But she has resolved to go through with it because it is part of what is required for a ballerina. I know you would protect her from this, but it cannot be so."

"Because it is a part of life," Marie whispered, quoting what Madame had always told her.

"Exactly," Madame said, a slight bit of kindness in her tone.

Marie looked up and saw a small, proud smile on her face just before her foster mother kissed her on the forehead and left her to her own devices. Sighing, Marie turned and headed for the costume rooms, passing several happy stagehands who were busy snickering behind their hands and giving each other winks and friendly nudges in the side.

'They probably heard what the costumes for the dancers will be and are rejoicing on it,' she thought, fuming. 'They will likely try their best to sneak into the dressing rooms during the costume fittings just to get a peek!'

Of course, if they tried anything with Christine in the room, Marie would not hesitate to knock some sense into their heads. Small though she was, Mademoiselle Marie Daae was renowned for hitting a man hard enough to see stars. Many stagehands, Joseph Bouqet included, had found themselves with large lumps on the sides of their heads after trying to "persuade" a ballet dancer to join them for the evening. Marie was not one to allow a woman to be raped, not if she had something to say about it.

'Especially not after what one of the men had tried to do to Christine.'

Marie's blood boiled at that memory. She had been coming back to her room from a meeting with the costume mistresses when she had spotted her sister trapped in a corner by one of the newly hired men. He had been more of an older boy, though, but he had been tall and confident that the dancers could hardly resist him. He had singled out Christine because she had been alone when he had encountered her in the hallway leading towards the wing that all men were forbidden to go: Madame Giry's collection of rooms

Marie had taken one look at her sister's terrified face and snapped. Just as the young man's hand had found Christine's arm, Marie had reached out and grabbed the man's ear and hair, pulling him way from her sister. Once released from her grip, he had turned to face his attacker and had laughed to see a young woman a little over 5'3" standing in front of him. The man had made the mistake of reaching forward to grab her and had received several hard blows to the face. A moment later, he was unconscious on the floor and a still-vexed Marie had to calm down a nearly hysterical Christine. The next day, the young man had been tossed out of the Populaire, never to return. After that, most of the stagehands remembered to keep their greedy, lustful hands and advances to themselves…at least until they were sure their feelings were returned by the girl (or girls) they were pursuing. Some, like Bouqet, refused to learn their lesson and had to be watched carefully at all times.

Once the men were out of sight, Marie turned her focus to what must be done for the upcoming opera. She and Madame would have their hands full just trying to choose the best dance steps and keeping the men away from the dancers while they practiced! Apparently this opera consisted of a more Arabian style, where the women (or in this case, girls) were harem dancers or slaves, and had to move seductively and gracefully while clad in revealing costumes.

'The costume mistresses are going to have an apoplexy,' Marie thought with a wince as she approached the doors to the sewing rooms.

"Oh, Marie!" cried Madame Rosetta, the chief designer. "Have you seen the sketches that they gave us for the newest opera performance? Well, they didn't give them to us, merely laid them out on the large desk in the corner in a blue folder, but have you seen them?"

"Yes, have you?" squealed Lauren, her assistant. "They are absolutely scandalous!"

Marie bit back a wince and a groan. "Yes, Madame Rose and Lauren, I have seen them," she said in as calming a tone as she could. "And I dislike them as much as you do, but there is nothing we can do about it." She held up her hands to stall any protests. "I have made complaints to Madame Giry, and she has in turn informed me that Monsieur LeFevre will not allow any changes to be made. Therefore, we will have to do as is ordered in the script and by our manager."

The other two women muttered a few curses, but conceded defeat on the matter. Finally, they all gathered around and began chatting over what material was to make up what part of the costume and how often the girls would have to be measured in order to make everything fit properly. Marie usually enjoyed this part best of all, but the mere thought that her dear sister would have to actually be wearing one of these very revealing outfits seemed to leech the fun out of the makings of this opera.

'Perhaps if someone influencing enough spoke up, they would at least let us alter the costumes. I should ask Erik if he could-'

Her thought died in its tracks at the mere mention of Erik. He was beyond her grasp now. He obviously wanted Christine…she had seen the look in his eyes at the mere mention of her name: the hope of her being a successful singer, widely known and singing his music…

Marie violently pushed all thoughts aside and joined in on the banter over the costumes.


A week into planning the opera, Marie discovered that the soprano La Carlotta was returning to the Opera Populaire. Apparently (for some reason beyond most of the staff's comprehension) Monsieur LeFevre had begged the heavily Latin-accented woman to return from her summer home in Spain. She had fled there last winter after one particularly unhappy encounter with the Opera Ghost, and most had thought her gone for good. Apparently the Ghost had tried to cause her to fall through a trap door in the floor, but had failed because she had been called aside by one of her hungry, and annoyingly loud, dogs. After that, she had screamed her hatred of the place and run. The staff had been thrilled, but Monsieur LeFevre had been beside himself with trying to find a replacement.

And now Carlotta was coming back. For years the Opera Ghost (it was easier now for Marie to think of Erik as the Ghost) had tried to pry the diva out of the Populaire, and now she had returned. Well, at least now Marie would get some amusement in watching terrible things happen to the screechingly terrible soprano. Carlotta had a habit of treating everyone like her own personal slave, though she seemed to like ordering Marie and the ballerinas about more than anyone.

'Probably because each one of us has more talent in one finger than Carlotta has in her whole body,' she thought. 'Even worse is that she's bringing her lover back with her.' Marie shuttered and twisted her lips with disgust.

Signor Piangi, he was called, and he was supposedly a great singer from either Italy or Spain, no one knew which. From past observation and experience, the Populaire's occupants could tell that anyone with a heavy accent was doomed to be misunderstood for much of the performance. It had happened before, and everyone had enjoyed laughing at the man who managed to mispronounce nearly half of the script. Plus, the man was far from resembling an opera star; Piangi had grown fat over the years, and a person would be a complete liar if they said he was what they imagined an opera male star to be.

Marie rolled her eyes as she made her way back towards Christine's room to help her sister brush her hair. It really was amazing how tangled her sister's hair could get after only one day. However, upon reaching the door and hearing voices within, Marie paused before knocking or opening it.

"Remember to practice the higher notes, Christine," declared a familiar, musical, male voice. "It is very important for you to do so."

'Erik!' Marie thought, holding back a gasp. 'What is he doing here at this hour?'

"I will, Angel," Christine said, a humble, obedient tone to her voice. "I will do everything you ask."

Marie held back tears as she quickly knocked on the door. "Christine!" she called. She heard a gasp from her sister, but spoke before her sister could do anything else. "I am not feeling well tonight! My head hurts, so I am going to bed early! I will see you in the morning!"

"Yes, Marie!" Christine called back, her voice only slightly tinged with fear, probably at her secret angel almost being discovered. "Until tomorrow!"

Marie then turned and headed back towards her room, changing quickly and jumping into bed, allowing herself to drift off the sleep quickly before tears could fall.

She did not feel a gloved hand reach out to caress her hair goodnight.


Rehearsals went on as planned, and the costumes caused much dislike amongst those who were working on them. Lauren was surprised at Marie's faded protests against the costumes, but was satisfied when the other girl mere stated that they could do nothing about it now, since the opera was so deep in preparation. Lauren had given in, but still muttered protests against it under her breath.

The dancers who had been ruled out of the main parts of the performance, but at least were in the background, disliked where they were, but knew better to complain. Marie was too busy helping with costumes and the dancers in the lead rolls that trying to get a sympathetic ear from her proved impossible. And of course, Madame Giry showed no pity to any of her undeserving dancers. In the end, the girls merely bore their dance situations and kept their complaints for one another to hear.

Now was the third week of practice, and the opera was extremely close to being performed. However, mishaps had been happening to backdrops, props, and, especially, La Carlotta. Marie (as well as everyone else) knew it was the Ghost, and that he was obviously unhappy with the fact that the diva had returned. Marie, however, was just relieved that he had never tangled with the costumes after the two of them had become friends. She hated putting ruined costumes back together, and Erik knew that, and so the costumes were always left as they were.

Sighing, Marie watched from the side as the dancers practiced in costume, Christine included. Madame Giry stood next to her as Monsieur LeFevre and two other gentlemen, one thin and the other sort of portly, came onto the stage.

"Everyone," M. LeFevre called, looking over the stage performers. "You all know that I am retiring as of this week. This is M. Firmin," the thin man bowed, "and M. Andre," the other man bowed. "They are here as your new managers."

"And our new patron, the Vicomte de Chagny," declared M. Firmin.

Marie frowned. Where had she heard that title before? As she turned her head around to get a better look at the personage that currently tugged on her memory strings, a much younger man stepped up beside the two new managers. Inwardly, Marie groaned. The young man was handsome in every possible way. Tall, with shoulder-length blond hair and blue eyes, as well as an air of charm and wealth, she would be hearing gossip and giggling from the ballet rats for months.

The Vicomte smiled at the entire crowd. "I am thrilled and honored to fund such a dazzling group of performers," he said, his voice rich and full.

"Would you like to see a small demonstration of the opera?" M. LeFevre offered the three of them. The men nodded and the performers took their places.

Marie watched the expressions on the men's faces as the piece began. La Carlotta and her lover, Piangi, broke out into their songs, which made many of the observing crew roll their eyes and make jokes behind the lead soprano's back. Under the scrutinizing gaze of Madame Giry, the corps de ballet dancers took their places and struck their dramatic poses before going into their routines. As she kept an eye out for missteps, Marie overheard the compliments being made by the new patron and managers to Madame. Curious, she strained her ears a bit to hear what was being said.

"…that little blonde angel," commented M. Firmin.

"My daughter, Meg Giry," Madame declared, sounding like the proud mother she was.

"And that exceptional beauty? No relation I trust," Firmin continued.

"Christine Daae. A promising talent, Monsieur," the ballet mistress said, suddenly becoming protective. Marie smiled. Madame always became suspicious of anyone who inquired after more than one of her dancers, especially about Meg, Christine, and Marie.

"Daae? Any relation to the Swedish violinist?" the new manager pressed.

"His daughter, the youngest of two girls," Madame Giry explained. "However, she is Gustave Daae's only birth daughter. The other, his eldest, is his adopted daughter, Marie. Both were orphaned early, Marie at twelve, and Christine at seven. Marie is my dance assistant."

Marie glanced out of the corner of her eye and spotted the managers and patron looking over at her. The managers she pushed out of her head at once. It was the patron, the Vicomte de Chagny, that had her attention. She swore that she had seen him before somewhere…those honest blue eyes and held her gaze before he turned and left the theater…

"Raoul?" she gasped, staring back at the back of the young man.

How could she forget the darling boy that they had met on the coast bordering between France and Spain? Papa had taken them there two years before he died, hoping that bright sunshine and the warm Mediterranean waters would be a good experience for them all. On the third day of the Daae's stay there, Christine had lost a scarf that Marie had given her for her fifth birthday. The wind had carried it into the waves, and a little boy had run out to get it for her. After that, little Raoul and Christine had been friends and playmates until life called them home.

'I wonder if Christine still remembers him,' Marie wondered, glancing towards her sister.

The little 'rehearsal' had been going splendidly until M. Andre requested that Carlotta sing an aria from Act Three. Marie had inwardly winced as others had showed their protest more visibly and plugged their ears; Carlotta always reached her worst screeching voice when she sang the aria. Thankfully, she got only a few lines into it…before a backdrop nearly landed on her head.

Marie didn't know whether to laugh or cry. In the past, she'd had to try her hardest not to burst out laughing every time Erik did his best to drive Carlotta away. Now, the mere thought of him caused her to choke on her own breath. Swallowing the lump in her throat, Marie decided to let out a tiny chuckle. Thankfully, no one heard, as they were all too busy trying to calm down the opera diva. From her spot at the side of the stage, Marie saw M. LeFevre make his escape while he could. Meanwhile, Carlotta screamed accusations of the managers' neglect for her well-being over the years, and walked out with her entourage. Once all of the noise had settled, Madame Giry came up to the new managers, a letter in her hands.

'Directions,' Marie thought, deciding to ignore the puzzled expressions of M. Firmin and Andre. 'The typical demand for money, Box 5, and the threat to do harm if his requests are not met.'

Sure enough, explosions of protests from the new managers soon followed, but these were soon pushed aside for the panic of who was to perform at the gala that night. With no diva/soprano/female lead, there could be no opera performance; it would be a financial disaster for the Opera House.

"Christine Daae could sing it, sir," came Madame's voice, shocking Marie out of her daze.

"Christine?" cried Firmin. "A chorus girl?"

"She has been well taught," declared Madame.

Wondering how Madame knew about Christine's talents, Marie watched as her little sister was shoved towards the front of the stage. She was trapped, not knowing whether to pray for Christine's success or failure. If Christine did well, Erik would be hers and she would be a star; if she failed, both she and Marie would be the laughingstock of the Opera House. Marie held her breath and waited.

And Christine sang.

Crystal clear notes like those of an angel's voice drifted up to dance with the orchestra's music, blending together in perfect harmony. Everyone, including Marie, stared in amazement as Christine's beautiful voice filled the theater. Never had she heard her sister's voice this clearly, this perfect. At night, they had merely been notes, lullabies, practice songs. This was much more than that…

Marie's heart broke. Christine was easily Erik's musical equal, which he had likely seen many years earlier. His disguise as the Angel of Music had allowed Christine to reach her fullest potential, and she could easily make his work known throughout the music world. Marie could not do that; she was useless to him. She had no talent in music or dance, and was no artist.

'It's hopeless,' she thought, her vision suddenly turning watery as Christine continued singing. 'After tonight, Erik will never want me down in his lair to visit him again.'

Once Christine made her debut at the gala, Marie would be pushed aside as Erik's friend. He would likely want his young protégé with him as much as possible so that she could learn all that he had to teach her. If Erik played his cards correctly, Christine would be as madly in love with the dear Phantom as her sister was.

'And likely married after the New Year Masquerade is over,' Marie thought, biting her lower lip as Christine finished Think of Me, ending it perfectly on the high note.

That was how it would be, and she would have to accept it. She would have nothing to offer Erik after he wooed Christine, except perhaps to look after the perfectly beautiful children they would have together. Auntie Marie, they would call her. No doubt she would be the perfect aunt and caretaker of the little darlings while Erik wrote his music and Christine sang her accompaniment to his instrumental playing. Marie would watch in envy as the two (literally) made beautiful music together in the cave by the lake.

The cast, crew, managers, and ballet mistress all applauded enthusiastically. From the side, Marie watched as the costume mistresses flocked towards Christine, eager to adjust the extravagant outfits that she would now have to be fitted for. Sighing, Marie drew herself up straight and approached her sister's side as Christine gave her a look that practically begged for her older sister's approval. Marie did the only thing any sister would do in a situation like that.

She smiled as best she could.


AN: It begins! I found the script online, and will sort of use it as a guide, but the rest will be my creative mind at work. Please let me know how I did with this chapter! Thanks!