(So I'm going to welcome myself back to writing with a little Phanfiction. Anything in bold and italics is from Phantom. The lines in bold came straight from my head, but if you're going to sing along they go to the tune of Stranger Than You Dreamt It from the 2004 movie with Gerard Butler. And that goes for all lyrics. 2004 movie. This is going to be really bizarre as I get back into the swing of writing, so please forgive me if it doesn't make much sense. This won't be an official crossover, but I will toss Easter eggs from other fandoms in for you, so anyone who correctly identifies them in a review will get an answer to any one question they have in the AN for whenever I next update, which will hopefully be either Wednesday or Friday. Have fun you guys!)

Disclaimer: Phantom of the Opera, and the Easter egg fandom do not belong to me, they are the rightful property of their creators. Only Matalin and the storyline are mine, sadly.

The Angel of Music sings songs in my head. The Angel of Music sings songs in my head. A hand brushed the curtain here, a gaze flicked up to the catwalks there. The Opera Populaire, now in ruins, was hers. The fantasy world of her childhood was hers. And now she would bring it to life once again. Starting with The Phantom of the Opera, he who taught her to sing. Stepping into the prima donna's dressing room, she faced the large mirror and let loose a breathy laugh. "It seems you have read my mind, Monsieur L'ange. Welcome back." The mirror slid open and a dark figure stood there, the only thing illuminated by the single candle in her hand his white porcelain mask. The Phantom of the Opera stood before Matalin Bonnefoy, a frown over what was visible of his face.

"Who are you?"

"My name is Matalin Bonnefoy. And it is my pleasure to meet you." She dipped into a low curtsy, brown curls that faded into bleach-blonde tumbling over the shoulders of her black dress, the skirt of that same dress sweeping years of dust off the floor, creating mist beneath her feet, adding to her mystery. As she rose, gray eyes looked out from porcelain pale skin, her lips curling gently into a delicate smirk, her cheeks a healthy rose. The Phantom stared at her, unease permeating his calm façade.

"Do you know who I am?" His voice was low, questioning, uneasy, and scared. He did not leave the entryway into the dressing room the mirror formed. She took his hand and pulled him in gently before sliding the mirror shut behind him.

"In sleep he sang to me. In dreams he came. That voice which calls to me, and speaks my name. And do I dream again? For now I find, the Phantom of the Opera is there, inside my mind," She sang softly, but the clear notes of her voice rose above anything she had intended before she dipped into the nest song. "The man behind the monster, this repulsive carcass who seems a beast but secretly dreams of beauty. Secretly, secretly." She faced him, no fear in her gray eyes as he stared down at her in horror. Matalin slowly reached a hand up and carefully pulled his mask away from his face. "Stranger than you dreamt it, can you ever dare to look, or bear to think of me?" Her voice changed from raw and fearful to soft and lulling. "I can dare to look, and bear to think of you. You are not the man they say. You are not just your face. You are not just your crimes!" Her arms wrapped around him and pulled him close to her as he began to cry softly, and they fell through time to the sounds of the Overture.