Disclaimer: The Phantom of the Opera is copyright to Gaston Leroux, the genius who actually wrote the book. The musical is copyright to Andrew Lloyd Webber. I'm making no profit off of this, and nothing of theirs is mine. I'm only borrowing it for the sake of writing this. The only things that are mine are any original characters I might throw in there, such as Julie, the plot of this thing and the actual fic itself. Please don't sue, okay? :-)

It was two weeks later. Everyone was back to work, apart from Carlotta, whom, it had been accepted, would never again set foot in this place, and Christine, for whom no one knew any definite answer. The strain of an absence of a soprano was beginning to show on my managers' faces. I may have gone back to hiding for the moment, but their troubles were far from over.

I observed that Reyer was indeed in a rather foul mood. He was even more snappish than usual, banging out the chords in such a manner that made me wince for the piano's sake. A temporary woman had been brought in for Christine's place, and the poor thing was practically having fits. Reyer was having howling incidences with her on a daily basis and the other members had been making unfair comparisons to her against Christine. Even I could tell it was a bit much, and it was coming to the point where I was wishing I could teach her for a few days to make her voice good enough just until Christine returned. If she returned...

Reyer had finished his latest argument with the new soprano and I was observing silently in the shadows of Box Five, when the entrance doors to the Opera House opened and a young woman stepped inside. She did so in such a manner that she drew attention to herself, even if that hadn't been her intention. I could sense her discomfort as everyone turned and watched her walk up towards the stage.

"Please," she asked, her voice ringing out loud and clear, "could someone please tell me where the office of the managers is?" I noted that she seemed to be very unconventional and wasn't sure whether to be outraged that she had such blatant disregard for the rules of society, or admiring that she had the courage to have such disregard. She was dressed in a man's dark trousers with shoes, a plain white shirt and had a faded dark jacket on over it. A small leather bag was slung over her right shoulder and her long, dark brown hair had been tied loosely at the nape of her neck. She made her way onto the stage, still waiting for an answer, not realising that everyone was staring at her in amazement and shock, even Reyer.

It was also Reyer that happened to recover first, hauling Meg up to the front, hissing at her that she was to show this woman where the office was. When the dancer tried to refuse she almost quaked at the icy look Reyer threw at her. With a resigned sigh, she walked forward. I couldn't hear what they said, but judging by the polite expressions on their faces, I guessed they were exchanging formalities and greetings. Then she turned to lead this new girl to the office of my managers. I immediately raced after them from Box Five, taking several shortcuts that I alone knew about.

No one else knew it, but there is in fact a small --- an extremely small --- passageway between the inner wall of the managers' office and the room next to it. It isn't big enough to even be granted the title of corridor, but I had discovered that I could move about in it. It was very uncomfortable, but I could use it if the need was necessary. I now crouched in this corridor, leaning slightly against a patch of wall that I knew was part of the office's inner wall. I could already hear the faint murmuring of Andre and Firmin, whispers that immediately quietened as the door opened.

"Ah Mlle. Renard!" I heard Andre exclaim, and she exchanged a polite greeting with him, and also I presumed, with Firmin. "How excellent of you to arrive at such short notice! We are extremely grateful to you!"

"It was no trouble M. Andre," she answered, and I heard her voice take on just the barest curious taint. "It was no trouble at all, seeing as no one else was willing to volunteer for the position. For some strange reason, they are convinced that any who step into the Opera House now, will automatically be cruelly massacred by a Phantom of sorts." I blinked. Apparently many knew of me now.

I could practically sense my managers' dismay. "Do not believe such ridiculous rumours my dear," Firmin hastily replied. "I assure you there is no Phantom here." Would you speak of me so easily Firmon, if I were to send you my notes again? I wondered, but quickly diminished the idea. Since Christine was not here now, and there was no Carlotta, there was no reason for me to make my presence known anymore. Indeed, there didn't seem to be any reason for me to remain here at all.

"I do not believe rumours Monsieur," she answered coldly. "I will only believe in this Phantom if I see him myself!" My interest was immediately piqued. And what if you were to see the Phantom? How would you react then I wonder?

"Ah," Firmin said in relief. He was obviously happy beyond belief to have finally found a staff member who was not easily brought in by legends and rumours. Reyer would have fits if his new assistant had anyway. The man was very stern and disapproved of all nonsense and foolishness. Perhaps he might even approve of this new girl.

"Well, we are very glad to have you with us," Andre continued. "We have your contract here and if you would just sign it ---"

"May I take it with me and return it tomorrow?" she interrupted as politely as she could. I fought not to grin. She obviously knew this business well, if she read through every contract she received as thoroughly and as carefully as she implied she did. Well, this girl would certainly cause a stir here for a while!

My managers did not immediately reply. Then Firmin said, "Why of course. If you would feel more comfortable having read through it..."

"I would." The answer was said bluntly and firmly, with still a hint of politeness.

"Very good." No doubt they were wondering what on Earth they had got themselves into.

I immediately slipped out of the secret passageway as I heard the shuffling of feet and the closing of doors. No doubt Andre and Firmin were going to formally introduce her to the cast and the rest of the staff, as they themselves had been when they had first been new. Such a long time ago. I remembered the note I had sent to them through Mme. Giry, welcoming them and giving them a brief overview of my wishes. That had been the start of the troubles, when they had refused to take me seriously. As I approached Box Five, a new idea struck me. Perhaps I should send this girl a note myself, welcoming her. From the brief words I'd heard her say and the fleeting glimpse of her, it was unlikely she would easily accepted here. Then I was left wondering why I was taking such a personal approach to this one girl, who didn't even believe I existed.

I had just settled into a seat once more in the shadows, when Firmin and Andre appeared on the stage, with the Mademoiselle a little ways behind them. Immediately all work stopped and attention was placed on the two men who had been through so much this past year. To be frank, I rather admired them for still staying at it, after everything I had put them through. I had expected them to give up and move onto more safer occupations.

"May we have your attention?!" Firmin cried, and then found he already had it. "This is Miss Julie Renard, the newest member of our staff here. She is be an assistant to M. Reyer, and will also be taking part control of our orchestra. We wish you to welcome her here, and to refrain from inventing any foolish stories to set her at unease." At this sentence he cast a reproachful eye at the corps de ballet. I correctly guessed that he was remembering the many times they had risen the cries of "The Phantom! He's here!" and generally sent the rest of the cast and crew into panic. I remembered as well; it had been me they were screaming about after all. I watched Julie's eyebrow rise slightly at his last sentence, but she said nothing, only nodding and bowing politely at the cast. The women immediately twittered amongst themselves at the scandal of a young woman bowing and wearing the clothes of a man at that! But she did not seem to notice, or perhaps she was so used to it by then that she simply ignored it.

Rehearsal resumed after that, with Julie staying to one side, mainly observing silently, but mentioning the odd comment or question to Reyer, who seemed surprisingly happy for some reason to answer them. That was surprising, the man was generally a loner at heart, with Mme. Giry as his only friend. A young woman who blatantly defied all of the rules of society had not seemed to be the material to become his second friend. But the merest hints of a developing friendship were already apparent, or at least a decent enough working relationship. At least they wouldn't tear each other apart and the rest of the cast and crew along with them.

Perhaps it would be wise to remain here after all. My home could eventually be repaired. It would take time, but I would be able to do it. And it seemed that things were going to become interesting, seeing the first reactions of the people here concerning Julie. And it seemed Julie herself would be an experience to this place as well. She was a vast reminder to everyone that times were changing and that a new century was starting to become frightfully near.

Yes, I decided. I would stay around after all. Besides, what was the Paris Opera without its dear Phantom?

It was the next evening, and I was doing my usual routine of wandering around the Opera. It was extraordinarily late, and most people had gone home. It was safe to walk around, or so I thought. I was humming under my breath as I walked, until I decided to launch into a few bars of one of the Principal Tenor's pieces. It was from Chalumeau's 'Hannibal' which was being put on once again to mark the first year of the new managers' time here. That had been the Opera being rehearsed and put on when they had first arrived to their positions here, completely unaware at what had been about to happen through the months. It was very ironic, but perhaps that had been their intention.

The young man that had been quickly placed into the role of Main Tenor was extremely untalented, but indeed thanks to my work with Piangi there had been nothing for it. It still didn't stop me from wincing every time the man opened his mouth to try an attempt at singing. His voice wasn't just untrained, there was no singing ability in it. How he had come this far to land in an Opera House was beyond me.

While my heart had been broken by Christine, my voice had not, and it was still the same as ever, rich and talented, a large comparison to the inadequacy of my face. Sometimes I even let myself fantasise about what might have been if I had been born with both a wonderful voice and an attractive face. My talent would have been regarded with open arms and I would have possibly ended up in an Opera House quite like this one, in position of Main Tenor. People would not have been repulsed by me. My mother would have loved me. Christine might have loved me.

How seriously people depended on the features of a face to judge one's character. It seemed that personality never mattered, it was just appearance. No one would ever accept me for how I was inside --- all they would ever see was a mask and a grotesque face underneath it --- if I ever let them see my face that is, which was usually never. I had let Christine see --- or rather she had taken it upon herself to see --- and look what had happened there.

I went through much of the Tenor's work before finally stopping and giving my voice a rest. It was then I heard it: violin music. I froze, the first thought flowing through my mind being, Perhaps they heard me. If it was one of the crew I was in trouble. They knew how badly the new tenor sounded. They also knew that Andre and Firmin were desperate to find a new, talented one and would have known if anyone talented had already been here. Then I realised that if whoever had was playing was practising as they should be (paying attention to their music and only that) than they probably hadn't heard me at all. But my voice wasn't exactly something that could be easily ignored.

But there was one thing I was sure of --- I had to find out who was playing. With this in mind, I quickly followed the music, going through several corridors and rooms until I found myself in an empty, deserted part of the Opera House, where not many ever went. Approaching the open door from where this magical music was coming from, I warily peered around it. When I recognised the musician, my eyes widened.

It was Julie, a polished violin in her hand, a bow in the other that moved across the strings in perfect time. I watched, spellbound, as emotions spilled from herself and the instrument and into the air: happiness, sadness, love, fear, lust, anger, rage. They spilled from one continuous melody that left even I, with my vast knowledge of music, breathless. I knew precisely then, why she was assistant to Reyer and took part control over the orchestra. She knew exactly what she was doing.

After a few minutes I jerked from my trance and realised it would not be wise for her to see me, not with the stories the others would undoubtedly tell her. About the vicious masked man who behaved like an animal and wielded a Punjab Lasso with deadly skill. No, it would be not be wise to reveal myself to another woman, even if it had been unintentional. Quietly, I slipped away. Even before I had descended towards my home, I had decided to do something I had never imagined myself doing --- I was going to write her a note.

I did not expect her to believe me. She had told Firmin and Andre herself that she would not believe I was there until she saw me myself, and with my reluctance to show myself to her, the chances of a meeting were slim to none. But I had to try, and someone had to congratulate her on her skill with a violin. I had the impression she did not play to many people. But I still could not understand why I was getting so involved with this girl. I did not want any occurrence along the lines of the one that had happened with Christine. I did not want to be faced with another mob.

But perhaps, I realised later, I did want a friend.

The next day it was done. I found Mme. Giry that morning and she was happy to pass on the note for me. I did not expect a reply, but that evening, to my surprise, she found me in Box Five, absently cringing over the temporary (Oh, how I hoped he was temporary!) tenor's pathetic attempts at singing. She did not say anything to me, eager to get back to her own rehearsals with the ballet girls, but quickly dropped a folded note into my lap. Before I could thank her, she had gone, leaving me staring after her in surprise. Then I turned my startled gaze to the paper in my lap and picked it up.

I opened it quickly, and scanned it. By the time I had finished I was shocked and stunned. I settled down to read it more carefully for the second time. It was short, as short as the one I had sent.

O.G. [it read. I had obviously not put down my real name]
You could imagine my surprise when I was approached by Mme. Giry and given a note of all things. When I read it, my surprise lengthened, as well as my anger. I do not like playing in front of people you understand, and as a result, do not particularly like having people listen in when I do play. But Mme. Giry assured me that you were a fine judge of a talented musician and singer and were both yourself. She also mentioned that praise from you is something that rarely comes, and that I should be proud, grateful and flattered that you had given me such astounding praise. I shall take her at her word, but I was most perplexed when she said you were not a part of the cast here, or at least not a public one.

I should very well like to meet you O.G., but when I happened to mentioned this to Mme. Giry she was adamant that I never, ever try and meet you. I am very much puzzled by this, particularly since you seemed to have gone to the trouble to contact me by giving her the note I received. I leave this to you to decide, and I will understand if you do not wish to arrange a meeting, although I shall continue to be very much puzzled.

Oh, and before I forget Monsieur, you are a very fine singer. You would do a much better job than our current tenor. You were not the only one listening in that night.

Amities,
Julie

To say I was surprised would be much an understatement. I was astounded! So she had also heard me sing that night. Well. We were both even on that matter so. I thought about it for the remaining time of rehearsal and when it was over, I stood up to return down below and begin my own note of reply to her. But I knew one thing: I was not going to meet her. I was not going to put myself in a similar situation as I had been before.