Disclaimer: I own…several pictures of Gerik, but I still don't own a functional copy of the blasted movie. (And I still don't own the book)So, if I owned POTO, don't you think I'd at least own a copy of the book?

A/N: To the people reading this, THANK YOU! I swear the reviews are the only bright part of my day. I send all of you lots and lots of Hershey's kisses and food and copies of the DVD. Anyway, presently everyone speaks English, later they'll speak in French and Deirdre won't understand, so then I'll have to translate, but I don't know French at all, so there won't be much of it. Anyway, I PROMISE if we don't see Erik in this chappie, he will be in the next one. And I will double space it now so all of you can actually read it. I always forget that it's harder to read on ff then it is on my comp. screen.  Anyways, be gone undouble-spacedness!

Aah…much better.

…Chapter 6…

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Mary asked for the hundredth time. It was the morning of the rest of my life. Overnight, she had made several new pieces of clothing, which I was ecstatic about since I had never had much more than that I wore on my back. She had also made me a teddy-bear named Art and packed us lots of food to keep us for the week-long journey. "I'm sure," I said again. To tell you the truth, with each time she asked that question I began to feel less and less comfortable and more and more anxious. My previous adventure on the boat had been quite exciting enough, was I really ready to give up the only family I'd ever known? Apparently I was, because at that moment the cart which I was now sitting in began to move. I awoke from my thoughts and looked back at the old friendly farm one last time, I would miss the little time I had had there. Little did I know that in the years to come I would often use that last fleeting image as a comfort to me. Presently I turned my head and looked out to the road that lead to the Paris Opera Populaire.

…Sometime Later…

"Deirdre?" I stirred from my gazing at the slowly moving countryside to look at Francis. "Yes?" "Child, do you know any French?" I shook my head, how would I know French? "Aah…that's what I thought. Well dear, in Paris most people speak French. You should probably learn some." "Okay. Teach me." "Oh no child, I can't teach you," he jerked the reins a little so that we would pick up the pace. "I'm not fluent. I only know a little in case anyone comes down to trade at the coast. Ask Madame Giry to teach you." "Who's Madame Giry?" I asked. He chuckled a little. "The ballet mistress at the opera. I believe her daughter is also there." "Oh," I didn't find most of the information relevant, being I didn't understand it, but I did no that ballet was a graceful dance that young women did. I learned a lot of stuff like that from spying on my older siblings. "Whoa," Francis stopped us at a little inn at the edge of the road. We slept there that night and the next day was much the same. For the remainder of the journey, we talked about things I may need to know, like which dormitories to sleep in and who to stay away from (though the Phantom was never mentioned). We paused to eat and sleep and carried on the next day. Finally, at the end of the week, we cam into a bustling city filled with new sights and sounds and smells, but one stood out above all. Just off to the horizon off the canter of the city, where I stood, was a huge, looming, beautiful building painted in gold and shining like a star. "That.," Francis whispered in my ear, seeing where I stared wide-eyed and tongue wagging, "is the Opera Populaire." I gulped, I had never dreamt of something so colossal. We rode right up to the front of it and Francis stepped down. He came around the other side and helped me down, then he went to the back and fetched my two small luggage cases. Handing one to me, he walked in purposefully and I had no choice but to follow. I walked in and stopped dead in awe. It was even more gorgeous on the inside, the sculputures, the paintings, even the tiles of the florr were perfectly and artistically arranged and designed that they would bring a man to his knees in prayer. "Come on," Francis grabbed my hand and quickly pulled me down hallway after hallway until I found myself in a large auditorium where several singers and dancers were practicing their latest play. I looked up and saw a glittering chandelier (the chandelier my friends, the chandelier) it was at least twice the height of a man and several times his width. I gazed around some more at the red velvet boxes. In one of them, for a moment, I thought I saw a figure in the shadows, but when I blinked the figure was gone, so I assumed it to be a figure of my imagination. It was then I heard it, "Francis?" a woman shouted over the commotion of the rehearsals in a thick French accent. "Francis, is that you?" "Bridgette Giry!" Francis called happily to an older woman who appeared to be an instructor of sorts. She soon came running over to us. "Oh, Francis it's so good to see you! Is Mary here too?" "No, she couldn't make it, but she said to send her love and…" he lowered his voice and said something quickly in French, which I didn't understand. But apparently Madame Giry did because she burst out laughing as soon as he said it. "Tell her," she said something back to hi ih French and he smiled. "She said you'd say that." "And who's this?" asked the mistress, who was now looking me over. Francis turned to me, "This is Deirdre." I gulped and smiled in what I hoped was a cheerful way, though it may have been more of a grimace being that I was rather nervous to be in such a big place with so many people. "Hello dear," she smiled at me and offered her hand. I took it. "Strong grip," she said when we let go. "did you ever consider joining the opera as a dancer or stage hand?" "Well actually Bridgette, that's why she's here. She would like a job if you have any available." "Why of course we do. But shouldn't her parents be here?" I hang my head. "Umm…Bridgette, her family forgot her. They're in England and she ran away after they forgot her." "Oh you poor child," she lifted my face up and smiled. I however, hated talking about my past and was about ready to cry. "Oh, Deirdre, don't cry. Shh…it's behind you now, it's okay." She hugged me to her and I sniffled a little in her shoulder. "Now then, what do you ant to do? Do you want to sing or dance?" I shrugged. I didn't have much rhythm, but I didn't know if I could sing, I had never tried. However, I loved music. Whenever I could, I would listen to the music floating from the nearest troubadour or carnival. A sudden idea struck me, "Can I do both?" I asked. She smiled, "Of course you can, you'll be a chorus girl. But just because you're the youngest here, don't expect to be treated any differently. Well, Francis, I can take care of her now. Is that all you wanted to see me for?" "Yes that's it. Bye now Deirdre, and remember to be careful and to watch out for yourself. Now come give me a good-bye hug." I ran up to him and threw my arms around his neck. "Bye Francis" I whispered and then left got my bags, and followed Madame Giry. I had done it, I was now proudly part of the Opera Populaire, the new page of my life.

So whaddaya think? I know I promised we'd see Erik in this one, but I think this chapter is long enough already. So it'll be in the next chappie which I will start writing ASAP!