So, turns out I'm a major idiot, cuz I didn't edit the last two chapters correctly and all my page breaks were removed…again…yeah, finally got it now though. Just so you know, when the Phantom speaks in italics, it means he cannot be seen. Anything else in italics are thoughts.

First off, I don't own Phantom of the Opera, I only wish I did…(and naturally, characters might be ooc at some point, terribly sorry, just send me a message complaining if that happens and I'll try to fix it.

Secondly, my fic takes place in present day, and the Phantom is immortal (there's more about that to be revealed later…much later). If you don't like that/don't agree with it/don't want to read it, well, you've been warned.

Thirdly, if I make a mistake, be it in history or contradiction with something from the movie/musical and/or book, let me know. I don't mind being told I'm wrong, that way I can fix it and not look like a huge idiot. This bit also applies to French phrases. I will be using them. In most cases, they're very common phrases, or they will be explained shortly after they are said. If it is not explained in the story, I will put a little section at the beginning to tell you what the phrase(s) means (unless it is purposefully meant to be unexplained, which will be a very rare thing).

Lastly, reviews will be much appreciated. They will encourage updates, for as long as I can manage it. (Please please please please write me reviews ppl…I really like to hear from you ppl.) I regret to say that I'm a college student, and when I'm home for summer and other breaks, I can't update as regularly (I may not be able to update at all) due to limited internet access. But I will get your messages over the summer, and will try to reply to everyone. Thank you so much, now on to the story.

Lenore yawned and stretched, slowly waking from pleasant dreams. "Tricksy Phantom, putting me to sleep," she mumbled as she rolled out of bed and put her glasses on. She dragged herself over to the dresser and opened a drawer that she had placed countless over-sized shirts in. The drawer was far too light; her shirts were missing and a sealed envelope lay in their place. "Now what?"

Lenore,

I have confiscated all of your ridiculously loose clothing. It is unbecoming of a woman to wear such garments and therefore, you will not be permitted to put on such attire when in my Opera House. I remain your humble servant,

O. G.

"You have no right to take my clothes! That's called stealing!" Lenore snapped angrily, glaring at his letter. Mumbling about controlling men, Lenore went over to her closet. True to his word, she could find no loose jeans. Her closet was practically empty without her baggy clothes. Continuing to complain under her breath, Lenore finally picked out a tight, short-sleeved shirt and a pair of skin-tight pants. "I need to go buy new clothes," Lenore grumbled, noting that the shirt was extremely stretched across her small bosom. Of course, purchasing anything that was a size too large was completely out of the question; the Phantom would confiscate it at the first opportunity.

Lenore spent the morning cleaning the halls she used most frequently, which meant the halls that connected her room, the kitchen, and the entrance hall. She was sitting on the stairs in the entrance hall when the doorbell rang.

"A package for Madam Lenore Parker," the delivery boy said, his eyes glued to his clipboard.

"Mademoiselle Parker," she corrected, holding out her hand for the clipboard. She scribbled her name as the lad retrieved a small box from his truck. Taking the box from him, she happily noted that she could easily carry this one. Shutting the door behind her, she promptly hurried to her room to see what Ember and Rosalyn had sent today.

The box was about 10 x 7 inches, with a depth of maybe 5 inches. Lifting the flaps of the box, Lenore saw a letter perched on top of a teddy bear she knew all too well. She opened the letter and held it with one hand for reading, while picking up the bear with the other.

Lenore,

Hope everything's going well at the opera house. Rosalyn and I came across Monet today, and we thought maybe you'd want him there for company. But perhaps we're wrong. You may have been making friends with a certain Opera Ghost… If only he were real…

Anyway, just wanted to let you know that everyone agreed to come help, and we'll be there on June 6th. Our flight leaves Washington D.C. at 4:45 p.m. on the 5th, and lands in Toronto Canada at 6:19 p.m. Then we leave Toronto at 8:25 p.m. and land in Paris at the Charles de Gaulle airport at 10:00 a.m. on the 6th. Our flight number is Air Canada 880. You should check with the airport to see if our flight was delayed before coming to greet us. See you then,

Ember.

"So they'll be here in two days. I'll have to clean out some rooms for them to stay in," Lenore said, smiling at the thought of having more sociable company in the Opera House. She looked at the soft, fuzzy, chocolate brown bear in her hand. "Well Monet, we've got a lot to do, don't we? I'm sure you'll be of little help, like always. But at least I don't have to worry about you stealing my clothes." She laid the bear on the bed next to her pillow, deposited the letter on her desk, and went to the kitchen to make herself lunch.

Due to her lack of culinary abilities, Lenore slapped together a sandwich and polished it off in a few minutes. He hasn't been watching me since about an hour ago, when I was cleaning. Maybe I should see if I can't find my clothes…surely he's just hidden them somewhere in the Opera House that I don't normally visit. Hoping she was right, she began to wander, taking corridors that were only vaguely familiar to her from Beaumont's tour.

Lenore didn't bother checking any of the rooms, because she somehow knew she wouldn't find her clothes in any of them. After a half hour of meandering through the corridors, Lenore was lost…sort of. She knew where she was (she was at the head of the stairs leading into the cellar and vaults), but she didn't know where her position was in correlation with any of the halls or rooms she was familiar with.

Beaumont told me not to go down there…because of the Phantom. But now that I've met him, it's not dangerous…I don't think. Anyway, I'm only looking for my clothes, which I wouldn't be doing if he hadn't stolen them, and it's not like I'm trying to find him to kill him or something. If I'm careful, he won't even know I'm down here.

She descended the stairs as quietly as possible, trying not to panic. It was pitch black and she could barely see more than a few feet in front of her. The further down she went, the more worried she became. Lenore couldn't see any light from the hallway anymore, and her sight was so limited that she might as well not be wearing her glasses. A horrible stench became stronger as she went further, and she was not sure she wanted to know what produced it. Finally the steps ended, and, with one hand on the wall, she began to tiptoe along the dark underground of the Opera House. Lenore had only gone about twenty feet when she was slammed up against the wall.

"You tread on dangerous ground, Mademoiselle," the Phantom hissed at her, invisible in the blackness around them. His hands had pinned her arms to the wall, but dressed in dark colors, she could not see him at all.

"I was looking for my clothes," she replied. "The ones you stole. And why should it be dangerous for me to be down here? I'm not a threat to you. What am I gonna do, talk you to death?"

"I do not tolerate anyone venturing into the underground. The previous owner's daughter, Ellen, is strung up not thirty paces away from us."

That accounted for the awful smell overwhelming Lenore's nose. "Are you going to hang me next to her?" Lenore asked bitterly.

"Do you wish me to?"

"Well, if you're going to hang me, yes. If I have to rot on a rope in a cellar, I might as well have company. Otherwise my corpse might get lonely," she joked.

"Before we address your fate, I'd like to inquire about this," he said, releasing one of her arms to pull something from a pocket. He held it a few inches in front of her nose.

"It's a piece of paper," Lenore informed him.

"Do not be cheeky with me, child."

"Well, I can't see it very bloody well in the dark!" she snapped.

"It's a letter, addressed to you and signed by someone named Ember. 'Everyone agreed to help, and we'll be there on June 6th.' How many people have you had the audacity to invite to my Opera House, girl?"

"Ember's my sister," Lenore informed him. "And I asked some friends to come and help me clean it up. I can't really afford to pay a staff to clean it, especially if you expect to get paid."

"How many?" he repeated.

"Let's see…Kathleen, Jaime, Lily, her husband Brad, Ember, and Rosalyn, that's…six," she responded. "Can we address my fate now? I don't know if I can take the suspense."

"If you continue to sass me, you will find yourself dangling before you have the chance to apologize."

"I'm such a pain, aren't I?" Lenore snarled. "See, this is me. Straight up, no masks whatsoever. And nobody likes it. That's why I have to put on masks; otherwise people don't like me, bloody mother f#ckers."

His hand was on her throat the instant she let her last word out. He tightened his grip until she could barely get any oxygen in her lungs. "A lady does not use such vulgar, common language. If I ever hear that word again, I will cut your tongue out. Is that clear?" The Phantom loosened his grip enough to allow her to choke out a 'yes'. "If you come down here again, I will not be merciful. Should any of your guests set foot down here, you'll not see them again, so I advise you to keep them far from the stairs. Unless you'd like poor Ellen to have some company." He released her.

"I, uh, don't know how to get back to my room from the stairs," Lenore mentioned, hoping to get instructions. Silence haunted the underground, and Lenore began to wonder if he was already long gone, assuming she could find her way back by herself.

"Come." A gloved hand slipped into Lenore's and began pulling her along through the infinite darkness. When they passed Ellen (or what was left of her), Lenore struggled to keep from retching at the stench. She was relieved when they had gone far enough into the Phantom's black realm to leave that sickening odor behind them. He led her up a flight of stairs and opened a door. The light blinded her momentarily, and before her eyes had a chance to adjust and catch a glimpse of the Opera Ghost, he shoved her past him into the room.

She heard the door shut behind her. Turning around, she looked at where the door had to be. There was no evidence whatsoever of a door in the wall, but she knew it was there now. Surveying the room revealed to her that the Phantom had brought her to the kitchen. I certainly know my way back now. What in the world was I thinking, going down those stairs? Now he's pissed off at me, and that's the absolute last thing I needed. Then I had to go and mention paying him, which I can't possibly manage. He's certainly not going to forget about it if I bring it up. Stupid!

Afternoon became evening, evening turned to night, night gave way to dawn, and the next day passed quickly. Lenore cleaned the other rooms along her hall for her friends' use, rather upset that she did not once feel the Phantom's eyes upon her. His absence made her worry that she had upset him more than she knew and he was plotting some dastardly deed that would land his wrath on one of her friends. She fell into bed that night, envisioning her friends sitting on a plane, laughing and discussing how they would react to meeting the Phantom if he was real. If I could tell them one thing - no, better yet, two things, it would be that he is real and you aren't going to react the way you say you will. I certainly didn't. I was going to be accepting and make friends…instead, I screamed and flattened myself against a wall.

Lenore awoke on June 6th to the sound of her alarm clock beeping itself to death. If the clock could put emotion into its beeping, it would most likely have been chipper and excited, pleased that it got to wake her up at a time when she wanted to be sleeping. She groaned and turned it off, rolling out of bed and jamming her glasses onto her nose. The first thing she noticed was a beautiful royal blue dress from the 1880s, laid out on her chair with another wax sealed envelope.

Lenore,

Consider this dress as compensation for the clothing I have taken from you. This dress is far more appropriate a garment for a young lady.

O. G.

Excitedly, Lenore quickly put the dress on. It fit perfectly, feeling as though it had been tailor-made for her and her alone. "I'm so going to the airport in this," she squealed happily. She didn't care if other people stared at her. She liked the outfit, and she felt it would be rude not to wear it, as though she didn't appreciate his gift.

At ten o'clock, she found herself standing in the airport, waiting anxiously in her new dress for her friends. They might not recognize me in this get up. It's not my normal fashion, after all. Strangers filed past her, giving her a curious glance or two before continuing on their way. Then she spotted a familiar head of red hair. A smile graced her face as her sister and friends fought their way out of the tide of passengers to her side.

"Lenore? Is that you?" Ember shrieked, running over to give her sister a hug. Ember stood two inches higher than her sister's height of five foot four. Her hair, red from roots to her shoulders, then black from there down to the tips at mid-thigh, was pulled back into a ponytail, clearly struggling against the ribbon to get loose. Ember's eyes, green today (matching her shirt), scanned her sister from head to toe. "Look at you! Wearing period clothing instead of those awful huge clothes that swallow you!"

"Lenore, hi," Kathleen Devlin said, hurrying over with Lily Campbell on her heels. Kathleen's dark brown eyes were bright with joy at seeing her friend, and her dark hair brushed her shoulders. She was the same height as Lenore. Lily, on the other hand, was two inches shorter. Lily had brown hair, caught in a loose braid that fell just past her waist. Her blue eyes were behind glasses today instead of the usual contacts.

The other three members of the party hung back, waiting to be noticed. Jamie McKay, in her usual boys' jeans and hockey jersey, stood next to Brad Campbell. After all, Jamie believed boys should stick together when in a large group of girls. Her brown hair was cut boyishly short in an attempt to emphasize the fact that Jamie considered herself one of the guys rather than one of the girls. Her brown eyes looked uninterestedly around the terminal.

Brad Campbell stood at attention, something he had picked up in the Reserves. He was the tallest of the group at a height of five foot eight. Stylish glasses covered his alert eyes, looking around the airport for any sign of trouble. His dark hair was cut short, so as not to get in his way.

Rosalyn Kendall was just an inch shorter than Brad. Her long blonde hair was pulled back into a ponytail, stopping midway down her back. Her green eyes studied the outfit Lenore wore with intense suspicion.

"Brad, Jamie, Rosalyn, it's great to see all of you. You have no idea what it's like to be cooped up in an Opera House for three days straight," Lenore remarked.

"Where'd you get that dress?" Rosalyn inquired.

"Oh, found it in the Opera House," Lenore answered casually. It wasn't exactly a lie. She just neglected to mention that the Phantom gave it to her. The best way to keep her friends safe was to keep the Phantom's presence a secret. She'd have to tell Rosalyn and Ember eventually, as they would be co-managing the Opera House with her, but it could wait.

"It's in great condition," Rosalyn continued.

"Yeah, I was amazed when I saw it. Let's go get your luggage," she said, quickly changing the subject.

He knew the moment they entered the Opera House; her friends were so loud, it wasn't possible not to hear them.

"It's gorgeous!" a girl shrieked.

"Absolutely stunning!" another girl added.

"That's how I felt before I started cleaning," Lenore laughed. She sounded different, more cheerful than normal. Putting a pleasant mask on for them, Mademoiselle? How rude of you to treat your friends in such a manner.

"It's big," a female voice commented.

"It's a challenge," a male voice corrected. "It's waiting to see if we can clean it or if we'll give up and hire a staff to do it for us."

"It's dark," a young woman said softly.

"Don't worry, I'll figure out where all the light switches are eventually, it won't always be this dark," Lenore assured the woman.

"I want to see the stage," a fifth female commanded. That accounted for the entire group. "How big is it? Is it in good condition or will there be a lot of renovations before we can get an opera going?"

We? Perhaps the woman in question was going to be the dance instructor. There seemed to be no other possibility; Lenore was the manager, and had made no mention of having co-managers. He would just have to question her about it later. He moved into a position where he could view the group.

Lenore stood out in the group, wearing the dress he had made for her. She kept subconsciously smoothing out nonexistent wrinkles, communicating her pleasure and pride with the garment. The other girls were peering around at the entrance hall, exclaiming over little details. One, a tall blonde, kept looking around, as though she expected someone to jump out and attack her at any moment. She was one to be cautious around, as she seemed more alert than the others. Then there was the man to deal with. He was muscular, and had a certain pride in his stance that vaguely reminded the Phantom of the Vicomte de Chagny. It would take a great deal of self-restraint to refrain from killing the boy for the memories he arose in the Phantom.

"Is there anyone else here?" Rosalyn said out of the blue.

"What?" Lenore returned, dumbfounded.

"I feel like we're being watched," Rosalyn explained.

"Oh, you're just being paranoid," Lenore said lightly.

"Maybe it's the Phantom of the Opera," Ember exclaimed.

"That's not possible," Jamie countered.

"Yeah, assuming he did exist, he'd be over a hundred and twenty years old," Kathleen added. "No one that old is going to be gallivanting around an Opera House watching us, let me assure you."

"Well, if he ate a balanced diet and exercised every day, it's possible he could. Not probable, but possible," Brad argued.

"Let me show you to your rooms," Lenore interjected, hoping to end the discussion. It seemed that, because she was didn't want to discuss it, all they wanted to talk about was the Phantom. If I didn't know any better, I'd think they planned it, knowing it would irritate me. She led them down the hall, wondering if Rosalyn could still feel the eyes of the Opera Ghost following them. Maybe I should tell Rosalyn and Ember tonight. That way, they might be more willing to drop the subject and keep it from coming up again. "Alright, Kathleen and Jamie, you guys are sharing this room. I hope that's okay. If we didn't have two pairs in two rooms, we wouldn't all fit in this hall."

"It's fine," Kathleen assured her. "Maybe I'll finally manage to convince Jaime she's a girl."

"That's a load of crap, I'm a boy," Jamie muttered.

"You're a girl," Kathleen insisted.

"Boy," Jamie replied.

"Fine, you're a boy," Kathleen conceded as the two entered their room to unpack their bags.

They continued down the hall until they reached the next door, Brad and Lily's room, and the newlyweds disappeared into their room. Rosalyn was the next to leave, followed by Ember. Finally having a minute to herself, Lenore ducked into her room. She needed to change to be able to clean, and she realized she had to hide the letters the Phantom had sent her.

The letters were no longer on her desktop. Lenore ran over to her desk, examining the floor around it, wondering if she had perhaps knocked them to the floor earlier this morning without realizing it.

"You won't find them, Mademoiselle. I have taken care of them."

"Well, that's one worry off my mind," she sighed in relief.

"Meet me backstage tonight at two o'clock. Come alone."

"Oh, a secret rendezvous in the middle of the night. How romantic," Lenore joked. His eyes were no longer upon her, so Lenore assumed he went to look in on her friends. Just stay away from Rosalyn; she's suspicious enough as it is. She quickly shed her new dress, hanging it on a hanger and putting it in her closet. She pulled out a pair of tight jeans and a small, sleeveless shirt and changed speedily. She didn't know how long her friends would be unpacking; she didn't want them questioning her about what kept her while she was changing. She'd have to come up with a lie then.

"Lenore, are you decent?" Brad called, knocking on her door.

"Yeah, come in," she said, just finishing buttoning her jeans.

"We're all unpacked with the exception of Ember, but she said she'll just finish it tonight," Lily said, coming into the room with Brad, Jamie, Rosalyn, Kathleen, and Ember on her heels.

"What's all this?" Ember inquired, gesturing to Lenore's tight clothes.

"I just feel like being girly, that's all," Lenore mumbled, quickly sliding her closet doors closed before anyone could see how empty her closet was.

"I think it's great that you're finally getting out of those baggy clothes," Lily chirped.

"You're not the only one," Lenore said under her breath, thinking of the Phantom

"What?"

"I said, 'thanks, hun'," Lenore improvised.

"You're welcome," Lily bubbled. "So, the slaves have reported for duty, Master."

"Slaves? Well, I suppose that means you don't expect me to do any work," Lenore reasoned.

"You'll do work," Ember said. "There's no way we're letting you off the hook."

"Hey, I've been cleaning this place for three days already."

"What all did you get done?" Brad inquired.

"The entrance hall, the rooms we're staying in, the kitchen, and the halls connecting the kitchen, entrance hall, and this hallway."

"That's it?" Kathleen grumbled aloud.

"Hey, this place is huge! It's not easy for one person, you know," Lenore defended herself. "I think for the rest of the day, we should work on getting more hallways cleaned. So, we're gonna go to a hallway I haven't cleaned, and then we're each gonna take a hallway branching off that hallway and meet back in that hallway to clean it together. Okay?"

An hour of soapy water and scrubbing later, they met in the hallway they had all branched out from. After a few moments of silent work, a water battle was waged. It had begun when Lily inadvertently splashed Rosalyn. Rosalyn retaliated, but missed Lily and got Kathleen. Then water began flying in every direction. When Lenore attempted to stop it, she got a bucket of dirty water splashed into her face, drenching her instantly, which succeeded in stopping the fight. Everyone looked at the culprit, Brad, who was surely a dead man walking now.

Lenore started beating Brad with the mop in her hand. "How dare you splash me! An innocent bystander trying to keep the peace. I'm the sergeant of this operation, Private! Splashing the sergeant is a sign of dissension in the ranks! I'll not have it! You are to be made an example of!" she shouted, chasing him up and down the hall with her mop.

"No beatings, Sergeant," he cried. "I'll do anything! Push ups, peel potatoes in the galley, anything but the beatings!"

"Alright Private, listen up," she barked, ceasing the chase. She leaned on her mop, waiting for him to stop running and stand at attention. "You're responsible for my work and your own while I'm gone. I want this hall spic n' span when I get back, understood?"

"Sir, yes sir!" he returned with a salute.

Lenore left her friends to cleaning as she went to change into dry clothes. When she returned, she was somewhat surprised to see her friends waiting for her, the hallway practically sparkling behind them.

"We figured if we didn't do as you told us, Sergeant, we'd only get bread and water for dinner," Rosalyn explained with a smile.

"Besides, we'd splashed water on every surface. Made it a lot quicker," Lily added.

Hours later, the group sat around the kitchen table while Jamie cooked dinner, too tired to talk. They had managed to clean every hallway, but it had exhausted them. Jamie finally set plates of food in front of them, and they found the energy to begin speaking.

"What's the itinerary for tomorrow, Sergeant Slavedriver?" Brad asked.

"Glad you asked, Private Dissension," she returned. "We're gonna split up our efforts between the ballet dormitories and the laundry room. All that's left after that is the house and stage area."

"What's my name?" Lily pestered.

"Private Nuisance," Lenore said with a smile. "Kathleen's Private Emo"-

"Yes! I'm the emo one!" Kathleen cheered.

"Rosalyn is Private Goody-Two-Shoes, cuz she doesn't do anything to bother me, and Ember is Private La La Land, cuz her head's always off in the clouds."

"What?" Ember said absently.

"Don't worry about it, La La Land, it wasn't anything bad," Lily teased.

"What about Jamie?" Rosalyn pondered.

"Oh, that's easy. Cook Jamie," Lenore responded.

"I hate you, Jamie. You've been promoted, you're not one of us lowly privates," Brad grumbled.

"Let's watch a movie," Kathleen suggested as they walked back to their rooms.

"No way, I'm too tired to watch a movie," Ember griped. "It would require me to be awake, and I can't possibly manage it after working for Sergeant Slavedriver."

"You guys are cruel, I wasn't that bad," Lenore whined.

The Phantom listened to them complain about Lenore and how hard she had worked them today. He saw her become more and more withdrawn from the group, eventually giving up entirely on defending herself. How can you consider these people your friends? They isolate you from the group and criticize you. Her so-called friends had yet to notice that she had become so reserved. So you are not truly yourself with them.