Author's Note: Hello all! I'm on a Phantom of The Opera kick right now and I felt like I had to get this one out of my head. I'm taking a little break in my Criminal Hearts fanfic. I'm not totally sure where I want that to go just yet. In the meantime I thought I'd write something in a little less modern setting to one of my favorite musicals of all time. Plus it'll give me a chance to flex my brain in a prettier direction. I feel like stories set in the past are supposed to be written prettily and dramatically. But that's just me.

This is just a little scene to start off the whole shebang. The next chapter will be longer and will have more information about the situation but I really wanted to dramatize this like a movie or a musical.

And now, without further ado. Let the show begin!

Jade eyes closed in concentration. All motion ceased as a young brunette woman pressed an ear against the wall of the tiny drawing room she hid in. Even the normal rise and fall of her chest was still in the silence of the drawing room. She listened intently to the muffled voices on the other side of the wall. Two she clearly recognized. Monsieur's Richard Firmin and Gilles André were talking in animated tones. Obviously the two had something to be excited about. The young woman's skin crawled. If her managers were excited, that usually meant trouble for everyone. But there were two other voices the young woman did not recognize. They weren't as animated but the tones were calm and calculating. She pressed her ear into the wall even more as if she were trying to melt into the wall itself. She heard the words "sale" and "purchase" along with the words "demolition" and "renovation". Her eyes shot open and her blood ran cold. No. The jade eyed girl listened even more intently but their voices quieted and she could glean no more from the other side of the wall. The young woman gave up and sighed. She turned her back to the wall and slowly slid down it. A blank stare of shock took over her features. No, it can't be right. I must have heard them wrong. She shook her head to relieve the shock and waited for the men to leave.

The younger woman did not sit there much longer for she heard the door of the other room open and the men's voices spilled out into the hall. She was on her feet in a second and she cracked the door to the hallway just enough that she could sneak a look at the strangers. One was a stocky fat man with a trimmed beard the color of freshly fallen snow. The other was a tall lanky man who dressed way too lavishly to show off his money and power. He stood over the stocky man by a head or more and his thin black mustache looked like someone had penciled it in while he was sleeping. She watched their shifty eyes move back and fourth from Monsieur's Firmin and André. All four men exchanged handshakes and continued to mutter in a jovial tone. The young woman waited until all four men had left before finally opening the door and emerging out into the hallway.

Here in the dim light of the hall one could see what the shadows allowed. She was a slim young woman of twenty-two years. Her slight curves were covered in the blackest of black dresses that reached down to flare around her calves. The dress's sleeves covered her pale arms and white gloves concealed slim hands. The black dress was trimmed around the collar with white lace. Black boots rose up her legs up to the knee and they looked to be made of a soft material for sneaking. The girl's face was rounded ever so slightly and jade eyes peered from behind a black masquerade mask. The mask covered the area around her eyes all the way down to the bottom of her slightly pointed nose, concealing her identity. Auburn hair was put into a tight braid that trailed from the base of her skull all the way to the curve of her lower back. Lastly a black cloak hung off of her shoulders and just barely kissed the ground with a hush every time she moved.

The jade eyed young woman spent little time in the hallway and quickly made her way into the adjoining office. The door was locked, as her managers did every night, so she took out her skeleton key that hung on a small chain around her neck. She slipped the key into the lock and turned it silently. She pushed the door open quietly before slipping into the darkness of the abandoned office. Her eyes adjusted to the darkness and she moved about the room and quickly found a lamp. She lit the lamp and the soft glow filled the room. The young woman went to work. She moved to the desk and rifled through all of the papers until she found a leather bound bunch with a seal on the front. She opened the bunch and read through the first page of the document. Her pink lips parted as her jaw dropped slightly. They were negotiations to sign over the Opéra Populaire to those two men who had just left. She flipped through the rest of the document quickly and found a letter of intent telling in detail how they were going to demolish the theater and build a manor in its place. The young woman gripped the documents with anger. Her knuckles turned white from gripping the papers so hard. Her body trembled with anger and fear.

"No. No! They cannot do this to us! This is our home. They cannot simply demolish this wonderful place. They simply cannot! I will not let them!"

She slammed the papers onto the desk and seethed in anger for a moment. But the boiling of her blood was interrupted when a cool wind blew across her back and the lantern wavered before blowing out. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end and her skin prickled. The young woman stood stark still like a rabbit afraid of being seen in the brush. Only the soft rise and fall of her chest betrayed her with movement. She felt a presence behind her and for a brief moment she feared she had been caught by one of the managers. But those fears were assuaged when a deep melodic voice spoke out from just inches behind her. She felt a breath on the back of her neck and she involuntarily shivered.

"Have you been taking good care of my Opera, my child?"

His voice rang out in the quiet darkness and the young woman felt it as if he were speaking to her very soul. She took a shaking breath and let it out before speaking. Her voice was just above a whisper but it was not without reverence.

"Yes… my Phantom."

She could almost feel the Phantom smile behind her as she said his name. The young woman dare not turn around. Fear and awe gripped every fiber of her being. He reached forward to the desk and picked up the leather bound notes from the desk. His hand brushed her own and his touch was electricity against her skin.

"Then what are these?"

The young woman drew another shaky breath before speaking again.

"Those are void. I will not let it happen. I will do anything to save this Opera. It is my home."

For the first time her voice did not shake. In fact, it rose with anger and conviction and passion. She clenched her fists at her side and her resolve was set. The Phantom dropped the documents back onto the desk and drew himself away from the young woman. His hand gently touched her arm and sent goose bumps across her skin. She gasped almost silently but it did not escape the notice of the Phantom. She could almost feel him backing away, but when he spoke she felt it across her skin like a wind.

"We will do anything to save this Opera. It is our home, ma petit fantôme. I regret I have left it for so long. But I am glad it was left in such capable hands."

The young woman smiled as he called her his little phantom. Her eyes lit up when he said we. The young woman reached forward onto the desk and grabbed the documents. She dropped them into a metal trash can before lighting a small match and dropping it on top of the papers. It took only moments for them to catch fire and the glow lit the room. The young woman risked a look at the Phantom and he looked exactly as she remembered him on stage six years ago. His stark white mask contrasted the dark ebony of his hair. The eye the young woman could see glittered in the flame light. A dark cloak hung about his shoulders and obscured most of his form in shadow. She looked deep into his eyes and for once, she was not afraid. She was awed and intrigued by the Phantom but there was no fear. The Phantom's eye widened a bit before his lips turned into the smallest shadow of a smile. She tore her eyes away from the Phantom and looked back to the small fire. The Phantom spoke.

"Let us show those fools who really runs this Opera House."

The jade eyed woman smiled.

"Yes, my Phantom."

A gust of wind suddenly ran through the tiny office and spilled all of the papers about. The young woman's cloak billowed for a second. She quickly looked to the Phantom but found he was gone. She looked back to the desk and found a single envelope with his signature seal. A smile took over her lips as she looked back to the spot where the Phantom had just been standing. Her fingers unconsciously went to the spot where the Phantom had grazed her arm. It still burned from his touch. All these years of waiting, of scheming. Now her greatest wish had been realized.

Mon Fantôme has returned.