Aimee sat in the eerie silence of her own small office in her house. Her office was usually a place of imagination since it was where all her books were and where she came to write. She had always dreamed of becoming a successful writer, even though she was a woman. But at the moment even the beautiful orange light from the setting sun that filled the room did not lift her spirits.

Tonight her mind was desperately trying to figure everything out, as she stared at the simple newspaper. How did he even survive? Aimee was sure the gypsies did not take good care of him, especially with a face like that. Who knows what he has gone through?

--

"A tortured soul"

--

The woman rubbed her eyes. As she had read on in the article, it said the Opera Ghost was also a murderer and always a threat to those in the Opera House. But it also said he was still alive, having escaped Opera Populaire through "means unknown". They were probably searching high and low for him. Aimee didn't want to think about what they would do to the poor Ghost once they found him.

"No," she said shaking her head, "I won't let them do that to him. All he needs is someone to help him. He needs … family."

This was becoming frustrating. She didn't even know if this man really existed! Maybe she was over-reacting; she could get into terrible trouble if she went looking for him. Growling, she threw the paper into the corner of the room.

"What am I going to do?" she whispered placing her arms on her desk then resting her head on them.

If she was going to do anything it would have to be in Paris. It wasn't that far and she could easily take the short train trip there. But … then what? Where would she find out if the Opera Ghost even existed?

--

"The only two witnesses were Christine Daae and her fiancée Victome Raoul de Chagny."

--

The famous Victome most likely wouldn't be too hard to find, but she would have to do some persuading to actually talk with the couple.

Aimee stood up and went to the window to stare at the fading bright colors of the sunset. If she were a better artist like her friend she would have painted the beautiful scene of yellows, oranges, and reds fading into dark blues, purples, and black. But not tonight, tonight she was all alone with a ten ton weight on her shoulder that could certainly make a huge curve in her straight future.

"This isn't going to be easy," she decided.

The next morning at the flower shop Aimee approached Mrs. Yves to ask, or beg, for some time off.

"Please Mrs. Yves, my friend sent me a letter almost begging me to come and visit her in southern France," Aimee lied, thinking it would be more believable than saying she needed to search for her long lost brother.

Mrs. Yves just sighed as she pondered the situation over. Odette, who was eavesdropping, immediately came to her friend's rescue.

"Mrs. Yves, I think you should let her go. In the entire time she had worked here she's only taken two days off, and that was because her poor aunt had died. The woman needs a vacation from this place … and its people," she referred to Jacqueline as she pleaded for Aimee.

"You really want to go?" the older woman asked.

"Yes madam!" she nodded anxiously.

"Well, it has been a slow time lately," she smiled, "I suppose you do need a vacation. Have a good time dear, you deserve it."

Aimee smiled brightly, and hugged her employer while Odette laughed.

"Thank you so much!" she said rather desperately as Mrs. Yves hugged her back.

The twenty-one-year-old then hugged Odette and thanked her as well.

"What are friends for?" she replied.

"Next time you need a favor, don't be afraid to ask. Or if you need to get out of work too," she whispered her last statement and the two giggled.

"I heard that Miss Aimee," the three then laughed, "How long shall you be gone?" she asked.

Aimee bit her bottom lip as she tried to estimate a time frame. How long will it take for my search? I could be back in a few days if my hunting for his existent is fruitless.

"It's hard to say Mrs. Yves. My friend didn't clarify on how long she wanted me to stay. It could be a week or a month … I hope that's all right," Aimee played with the top button on her dress.

"I suppose that would be fine, but don't be gone for too long Aimee, or I'll be forced to find a replacement for you," her boss said seriously.

"I understand," she said as she grabbed her hat and cape before waving a finale good-bye and walking outside.

Taking a deep breath in and slowly letting it leave her lungs, the young woman felt better that that was over. Now, Aimee thought, to buy a train ticket for Paris. As she ambled towards the station she stopped when she crossed paths with the new Opera House. Since the Opera Populaire had done so well for Paris, Aimee's small city decided to build one of their own. So far, it had only had two operas performed there, and the city's people were still adjusting to it. While Aimee passed it by she wondered what would become of it after this Opera Ghost fiasco. Would is shut down in fear of the madman coming there? Or would it thrive since Paris' was out of business?

She hoped it would thrive for it would be healthy for her home. And maybe if she found that Opera Ghost he could somehow give them suggestions, but not in a threatening way! Aimee actually smiled at the thought of pointing her finger and yelling at the infamous mastermind for misbehaving. But her smile quickly faded as she worried that she would never find him.

Once Aimee reached the station, she bought a ticket for Paris, and would leave the next day, bright and early. On her trip back home she couldn't help but feel anxious, excited, and scared simultaneously. The young woman had no idea what would happen to her, or her future. She could easily come home futile. Or what if she found him and he despised her completely? Sighing, she clutched her blue cape and pulled it close, a few dark strands of her hair falling over her lovely face.

Back in her cozy, yet quiet house, the worried woman began packing her suitcase. First things first, she contemplated, before she torn her hair out about the Ghost; she needed to actually get to Paris and speak with … what was her name? Oh, right, Christine, she should be able to answer some of her questions.

Satisfied with her packing, a very stressed out and tired Aimee slipping into a night gown and crawled into her comfy bed. And surprisingly, that night she did not have her usual dark dreams about a little girl weeping over a lost baby boy clothes.