This is what happens when you watch Phantom of the Opera at least twice every week. God I`m obsessed...

So I`ve done some research on the type of stories most people write for this fandom. There are quite a few enjoyable cases in which the oc is brought to the past. I thought it be fun to try it the other way around.

Warning: This story will contain strong language, and there will be a lot of smut in later chapters.

I hope you all enjoy this story, and if you do please review; I`d love to hear your feedback.

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Jocelyn was a visionary.

At least that`s what she told herself when she forked over half her life savings to buy an opera house. She wasn`t an arts student, heck she majored in law. Nothing about her screamed music enthusiast, yet somehow she couldn`t resist. Perhaps a part of her, one hidden beneath layers of modern realism, longed to do something spectacular. And what could be more spectacular then owning an opera? Putting on shows after shows, amusing guests for a measly price of 150 per seat? Yes, that sounded fair. 150 dollars per seat. Add a few deals for the holidays and they`d be sure to sell.

At least she hoped they would.

With that thought in mind, Jocelyn walked down an isle; examining the dusty red seats surrounding the stage. Everything about the building was grand, from the gold plated statues to the heavy curtains. Once the layer of dust was removed; everything would surely shine. How could this not work out? People will most definitely flock to secure seats. Rich people hopefully. Gosh, had she really become so money-minded?

For a brief second Jocelyn felt a chill, a strange but noticeable temperature drop that took her by surprise. Instinctively she turned around, searching for a source she couldn't find. The building was pretty messed up; it was probably a draft. Speaking of which, there was so much to fix, so much to do if she was going to make this opera work, if she was going to make this opera popular. Perhaps that`ll be easy though, after all; the opera was called Opera Populaire.

x

"Doomed..." Jocelyn muttered under her breath, "I`m freakin` doomed."

"What was that mademoiselle?"

Being an American girl, Jocelyn still wasn`t used to the French title. Regardless she straightened up, replying with a: "Nothing." But it wasn`t nothing. She was doomed! Currently, Pierre and her were taking auditions. Jocelyn had hired Pierre last week with a simple job in mind; run the operas. She wasn`t an arts student, she wasn`t qualified; but Pierre was. At the moment she was rather impressed with Pierre. It must be pretty difficult for him to keep his cool with that banshee screeching the way she was. For gods sake, when Jocelyn began hosting these auditions, she thought the contenders would actually be talented. This is France after all! Where's the beauty? The romance? The talent?

Forget that, where are the ear plugs?

"That`s enough Miss Joanne." Pierre finally signaled for the singer to stop, and at that moment Jocelyn felt like giving him a raise.

The singer, Miss Joanne, gave a wide smile before doing a little curtsy and leaving.

"Please tell me it gets better." Jocelyn mumbled and Pierre chuckled in response.

"I would hope so." He gave a little sigh before turning his attention back up to the stage. The two of them were seated in the second aisle; giving them a decent view of the contenders. Speaking of which, another young woman walked up onto the stage. This one was dressed with a posh flare, her hair styled in a fantastic array of blonde curls, her skin creamy and flawless. She was gorgeous in every sense of the word. Quietly Jocelyn prayed she had a voice to match her looks.

"Good evening mamzelle, your name?" Pierre asked politely.

"Collette Thomas." She replied rather sweetly, and Jocelyn only felt herself getting more hopeful. A woman with such an attractive speaking voice must sing like an angel, right?

"Whenever you're ready." Pierre smiled, and the girl took a few steps back; sucking in a deep breath. With a simple hand gesture, she parted her lips and broke into song. Her voice was the exact definition of nails against chalkboard. Unfortunately her projection was great; making her unbearably loud. Even Pierre was forced to cover his ears as her screeching bounced off the walls. Instantly Pierre ordered her to stop, but her voice drowned out even his. It went on for a few more unbearable seconds when one of the stagehands rushed onto the stage, without a word he dashed over to the girl; tackling her down.

At first Jocelyn thought the stagehand was doing a public service; shutting up that little... demon! When suddenly she heard a loud crash, her eyes instantly drawn to a large lump of wood that now laid where the singer was a moment ago. She recognized it as one of the clouds; a prop that hung from the ceiling moments ago. It fell? How in the world did it fall? She had her stagehands inspect everything... perhaps the rope was too weak? Wait... forget the rope, that prop could have killed the singer! Her business would have been ruined before it even started!

"Miss Thomas!" Pierre was now running towards the stage, and obviously Jocelyn followed. The singer looked even paler then before as she took shaky, hesitant breaths, The stagehand that rescued her stood beside her, panting himself as he looked up at his managers.

"We`re fine." The stagehand began.

"Fine?" Miss Thomas suddenly found her breath as she glared daggers at Pierre, "I am not fine! I almost died. Died, you hear me? What type of opera are you imbeciles running? Your nuts if you think this is okay!"

"I`m certain it was an accident mamzelle." Pierre insisted, but the look the woman gave him proved she wasn`t buying it "One of the stagehands must`ve left a rope loose, we`ll make sure this never happens again."

"Again?" she scoffed "You really are crazy. Do you think I`m staying? There won`t be an again, because I`m leaving! You just lost yourself a priceless talent."

Awkwardly, Jocelyn took a few steps back, deciding it was best to let Pierre handle this. Her attention instead drifted up to the passages above the stage. The passages the stagehands would use to lower and raise props; to control the setting. Had someone really left one of the ropes loose? Was it an accident?

Of course it`s an accident. Who would want to kill this little singer? Yes, her voice was torturously bad, but that was no reason to kill her. Surely no one here was that insane. Not knowing what else to do, Jocelyn decided to investigate, heading backstage to the stairway that led up to those passages. After a few carefully placed steps, she managed to find her way to where the props were tied. A few of the clouds were still hanging in their original places, tied down perfectly well; the ropes tight and firm. The only exception being a post with loose rope hanging around it. Curiously, Jocelyn lifted up the rope, noticing it wasn`t as long as it should be. In fact, it was cut off! Only a little bit of rope was attached to the post, the rest of it had went down with the cloud. Someone cut the rope...?

No, of course not! It must`ve snapped. The rope itself must have been weak.

It was at that moment that Jocelyn felt a chill. The same chill she felt when she first entered her opera, the same chill that shook her to her core. Instinctively she glanced around, trying to find a source when her eyes landed on a figure. Down below by the costumes, stood a tall dark man; his body hidden beneath a black cloak as he stood with his back to her. One of the contestants perhaps? Maybe a stagehand then? But dressed like that...?

"You there!" Jocelyn called, and the man stiffened. Instead of turning to face her, he quickly made his way into the back halls and curiously Jocelyn decided to follow. Quickly she made her way down the stairs, following him into the dressing room before turning into the halls. She barely caught a glimpse of his dark cloak as he turned the corner. Once she caught up, he was somehow already halfway up a staircase. Quickening her pace, Jocelyn followed, trying to reach him as he turned down another hall and disappeared into one of the rooms.

"Hey stop! This area is off-limits-" she stopped to catch her breath as she stood at the rooms doorway. By the looks of it the room was an old dressing room; most of the furniture was old and dusty though. This area of the opera house was one she still had to renovate. The man was now standing in front of a large, dirty mirror; trapped in the room with no way out.

"God you gave me quite the walk." She mumbled before clearing her voice "Who are you? Did you have something to do with that rope?" The rope? Hadn`t she already decided it was an accident? This man couldn`t possibly have done anything to sabotage it. He was probably just a lost contender. But then... why run? "Are you gonna answer me?"

He stiffened again.

"This isn`t funny sir, I can have you arrested for trespassing. I am the owner, you know." Jocelyn was suddenly cut off as he turned around to face her. It was then that she laid eyes on his mask. She didn`t know why it scared her, why it made her breath hitch, why she couldn`t move. She didn`t know it then; but that mask was about to destroy her world. And the man behind it would build her a new one. She didn`t know anything then.

His strides were elegant but quick as he moved closer, his masked face inches away from her as he glared at her; his eyes burning with a strange hate.

"This is my opera house." His voice was deep, dark; terrifying and alluring at the same time. "I am its owner."

Jocelyn couldn`t even find the sense to argue as he turned away to face the mirror, his cape sweeping behind him as he walked right through it. Did he just... Oh god he disappeared! He disappeared into the mirror? What the hell? How... How?!

Unable to move, Jocelyn just stared at the mirror with her jaw wide open.