This fanfic is set a year after the fire at the Opera Populaire. I don't own any of the characters except Remy and Leon. The rest belong to all those other brilliant people. I am basing this mostly on the movie (think Gerard Butler, not Lon Chaney). This is my first fanfic, but please don't click the back button on your browser until you have given it a chance. This is an OC pairing, because I think that given the circumstances that the Phantom placed Christine in, she wouldn't have gone back to him. I stand firm in that, so don't bother telling me that 'their love is the only true love in the world, and you're a horrible person to think otherwise'. Constructive criticism would be great, because I do think that I need it, but otherwise, desist from sending hate mail.

I don't know why I ran into the Opera House that night. I don't even remember making a conscious decision to enter, only the feeling of utter desperation that flooded my very soul until I couldn't even see clearly, let alone think. I heard the footsteps rapidly approaching behind me, and knew I wouldn't last much longer racing through the streets. Maybe in the burned-out ruin of the Opera Populaire, I would have a chance at survival.

I saw blurred images of fallen statues fly by me as I raced along, and flew up what must have been a grand staircase in its time. My feet kicked up dust and ash, which in turn flew into my lungs, impairing my already ragged breathing. Before long, I found myself backstage, moving through a labyrinth of passages, still full of set pieces and props. When I no longer heard the footsteps behind me, I slowed to a walk, as the adrenaline abandoned my body, making my brain sluggish and my limbs ache.

Without warning, I felt the floor give out from under me and crumble into charred bits of wood and ash as I fell through.

'You're a stupid fool, Remy,' I cursed myself, as I landed hard on the ground, my legs crumpling under me. 'Now look at yourself.'

I had let my guard down, and ended up lying on the ground with my leg bent strangely beneath me. This would teach me a lesson, and I sincerely hoped that I would live long enough to use my new bit of wisdom. On the bright side, down here my pursuers would have more trouble finding me. On the down side, I had no idea where 'down here' was or how to leave, and my tired mind and body were quickly giving out.

I struggled to a sitting position, and leaned my head against the nearest wall, forcing myself to assess my injuries. There was a new pain in my left ankle that hadn't been there before, so it must have absorbed the greatest of the impact from my fall. My lungs hurt, and my mouth was dry, but those impairments weren't too serious. A little water would be nice, but my thirst was nothing life threatening. I reached my hand up to feel the side of my head, where one of Leon's men had struck me, and felt a warm liquid trickling down the side of my face.

'This could be a problem', I observed aloud, squinting as my hand, barely able to discern the dark stain of the blood in the unceasing darkness that surrounded me.

Fatigue was beginning to take its toll, and my eyes kept drifting out of focus as I looked for an exit. I couldn't make out a wall, let alone a door. My eyes drifted closed, and I remembered the last few weeks of terror. I wondered, if this kept up, might a person get used to being hunted? I had never thought, when I refused Leon's hand, that my pride would lead to this, sitting on the floor of what used to be an opera house, while cruel-faced men pursued me through the city.

My reverie was broken by the footsteps above me. I sat upright abruptly, forcing back a cry of pain as my tired muscles protested.

'They must not find me,' I repeated in my head as the pain subsided. 'I will not let him beat me.'

The dim light of a lantern shone through the hole in the floor, and I quickly moved my legs into the shadows.

"She's not down here," the voice directly above me proclaimed.

"Right, then, keep looking," another man replied. "Little whore must be around here somewhere."

"Madomoiselle Remy! We know you're here! Just come out, and we promise we won't hurt you."

Right, like that was going to persuade me. Might want to hire someone a little smarter next time you decide to chase down your would-be fiance, Leon.

"Shut up, you fool, she's not going to believe that."

No, really? I didn't think humans came that stupid. I almost betrayed myself by laughing.

After what seemed like an eternity, their footsteps faded away and the light from their lanterns receded, leaving me in total darkness once again.

I was about to breathe a sigh of relief when harsh reality hit me. I was trapped in the basement of an abandoned opera house, my empty stomach was growling forcefully, my lungs still cried out for water, and I was a bloody mess. I wasn't even sure if I could stand. For the first time in weeks, the first time since I had been driven from home, I started to cry. Not loudly, my sense of survival wouldn't allow me, but with the silent tears of complete desperation. My only comfort was that if I were to die now, Leon would never have the satisfaction of knowing that he had won.

I was so consumed with my bitter thoughts that I almost didn't hear the new set of footsteps approaching me from across the darkened room. I lifted my head and stilled my tears, straining my ears to figure out where they were coming from. These were not the footsteps of Leon's brutes; they were lighter and softer. My ears, used to listening for danger around me, only barely caught them.

"What are you doing here!"

The harshness and volume of the voice caught me off guard. I could hear the undiluted anger spilling off his words, and was more frightened than I had been when Leon caught me trying to leave.

"What do you mean by this intrusion? Explain yourself!"

It didn't seem to come from one direction; it seemed to be all around me, coming from many directions at once.

"Answer me, you little wretch!"

Even in my weakened stupor, I knew that this was a voice used to being obeyed, and I didn't think I should invite the ire of another dangerous man. I struggled to me feet, using the wall behind me for support, as I tried to speak. It was no use, and my traitorous lungs refused to oblige me. I couldn't even say my name, let alone give an explanation for my obviously unwanted presence. My legs threatened to give out from under me, and I wavered. I heard the footsteps move closer, until they were standing right in front of me. Even so close, all I could make out in the darkness was a dark form and glimmer of white around where the voice's head would be.

"Who are you?"

The voice was quieter this time, so close to my face I could almost feel warm breath. I tried to sputter out my name, but only managed to cough out a lung full of ash before my head started spinning and I crumpled at the shape's feet, and lapsed into complete oblivion.